


Vahan: Possession is Nine Tenths

by TheCauldron



Series: The Vahan Saga [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting, Blood and Violence, Dumbledore Bashing, Genius Harry, Hogwarts First Year, Manipulation, Manipulative Dumbledore, Manipulative Harry, Organized Crime, Other, Sociopath Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 86,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCauldron/pseuds/TheCauldron
Summary: First sequel to Vahan. In which Harry goes to Hogwarts, Dumbledore begins to realise the magnitude of his error, and Vahan sets about making friends and influencing people.





	1. Chapter 1

Marcel choked on his coffee.

"Did you say Nicolas Flamel?" He wheezed, mopping at the hot drink now liberally coating his chest.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and ate a grape. "I did, yes. Do you know him?"

"Not personally, the man's a recluse, but how can you not know who he is? He's famous!"

Marcel's incredulity was written all over his face, and Harry was hard pressed not to snort a laugh. He knew perfectly well who Flamel was, even without the letter in his hand. Draco's gaping expression just added to his hilarity.

"Is he a singer or something? Oh! Didn't he do a duet with Celestina Warbeck or something last year? I think I remember you singing it incessantly."

He watched as Marcel spluttered, his face turning all sorts of interesting colours as he tried to figure out which part of that statement to correct first. After a few moments, even Harry's usual mask couldn't take the pressure and cracked. He burst out laughing, clutching his sides as he giggled, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry, but that was too easy!" He gasped.

Alex and Sergei chuckled into their respective coffee's, while Connor giggled.

Marcel and Draco flushed, busying themselves with the remains of their breakfasts.

"So what was that letter really about?" Alex asked, setting down his cutlery.

Harry smirked, and handed it over, returning to his breakfast.

Alex's eyebrows shot up as he read. "He wants to hire the Boss?"

Humming lightly, Harry nodded. "It seems he needs an item recovered. Sergei, I'm assigning you to meet with him and bring the details back for Vahan to review."

The Russian nodded, eyes glinting with curiosity about why Harry was speaking so freely in front of Draco.

The blond boy frowned. Even he had overheard talk about Vahan amongst his peers, and while he knew that Harry had some unsavoury connections that were best not discussed in polite company - or at all - he hadn't realised it was the shadowy figure that had everyone all atwitter.

Harry watched Draco realising just who Harry 'worked' for and sat back calmly, sipping his coffee.

"Um," Draco coughed slightly. "Did you want to call my father over? You have business to discuss with him, right?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Mm. Why don't you go and Floo him? He can join us for breakfast if he hasn't already eaten."

The men watched the shaken boy walking to the fireplace in the receiving room.

Waiting until he was out of earshot, Alex turned to Harry. "Are you sure that was wise?"

Harry shrugged. "He would have found out eventually. I'd rather it was before Hogwarts since some of my plans involve him. With his father obviously working with Vahan, I'm hoping that will resolve some of his reservations. Worse case I can always remind him that he's already practically working for our employer, himself. He did help punish his kidnapper after all." Allowing a small smirk to flit across his face, Harry sighed happily. He did so like it when people fell neatly where he wanted them.

They ate in silence, waiting for Lucius and Draco to rejoin them.

A few moments later, the blond duet entered the room, the elder nodding politely.

"Good morning, Harry, and happy birthday. Draco mentioned you had something to discuss with me?"

"Several things, actually," Harry murmured, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. "Please, help yourself to some breakfast. We can talk while we eat, if you have no objections."

Lucius nodded his thanks and sat gracefully, deftly serving himself from the platters on the table.

"I'll address the simplest issue first. Draco is now aware of just who I work for." Harry paused as Lucius faltered slightly. "Our employer has suggested that I take Draco on as my second while at Hogwarts; as his father, are you agreeable to this?"

Lucius swallowed heavily and lowered his cutlery onto the plate, his eyes flicking from Harry to Draco and back again. He was well aware that he was only being asked as a formality, though he was immensely grateful for Vahan's well known policy for never forcing children to work for him, and taking a very dim view of people who did.

"Is this something I may discuss with my son in private?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, sipping at his coffee to hide his smirk.

"Certainly, though you should finish your breakfast first."

He turned to Connor. "How have your piano lessons been going? Is the teacher satisfactory?"

Connor nodded eagerly, his hair flopping around on his head. "Mr Jinsen is awesome! He's really strict, but the lessons are really fun, and he say's I'm doing really well for a beginner! He said that it's clear that I've been practicing really hard, and I _have_ been! I've been practicing for an hour every day, even though Mr Jinsen says that half an hour is enough. I'd practice more if I could, but I don't want my other studies to suffer." He paused and took a deep breath, his face slightly red from having blurted everything out on one lungful. "Can I have ice cream?"

"Yes." Harry blinked innocently as Connors eyes widened. "After dinner tonight."

Connor deflated, his bottom lip jutting out. "That was just mean."

Harry grinned. "You need to learn to be more specific, that's all. You asked if you could have it, you never said anything about when. And either way, you know that you aren't allowed ice cream before lunchtime."

Connor continued pouting, though he cheered up slightly when his favourite house elf, Swit, discretely slipped some chilled pineapple and mint salad onto his plate, whisking away the heavier English fare he'd been picking at.

Harry pretended he didn't notice.

"Sergei, I'll give you the details for your assigned task later, I'd like you present for the meeting this morning. Please notify the standard list of people that their presence is required."

"Full meeting?" Sergei asked, downing the last of his coffee.

"Yes, scheduled for nine thirty. I'm estimating it will take about an hour and a half. Alex, can you please gather all the relevant reports and review them?"

Alex nodded and both mercenaries stood, departing to attend to their tasks.

"Connor, if you're finished, you can go practice now."

The boy nodded and stood, exiting with a cheerful wave and a skip in his step.

Harry stood, absently smoothing down his jacket.

"I'll leave you two to talk. Once you've decided, please come to my study."

Draco watched him leave, eyes wide.

"Draco," Lucius began delicately. "Do you understand what he is asking of you?"

The blond boy shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. "I think so? He wants me to work with him, right?"

"For," Lucius clarified.

Draco looked confused.

"He wants you to work _for_ him, not with him."

Frowning, Draco nibbled some toast. "But he works with you, right? Does he not want the same sort of thing from me?"

Lucius shook his head slightly. "We have a different type of arrangement than what he is offering you. He and I have a business arrangement that is mutually beneficial. However, he is offering to employ you fully as his second in command; at least as far as business at Hogwarts is concerned."

"What would you recommend, Father?" Draco looked up at him, grey eyes wide.

The blond patriarch sighed. "The choice must be yours, but I want you to understand exactly what you would be agreeing to if you make that decision. Your very life will belong to him, and you will never be able to leave his side. Your every effort will be for his benefit, and failure will not be overlooked. I will not be able to protect you from the consequences of your actions. You will need to stand on your own merit, and not rely on me or our family name."

"And if I refused him?"

"You would not be harmed. In this instance, your age is a benefit; Vahan has a reputation for not forcing children to work for him. That said, you would never be trusted, and it's almost a certainty that Harry would reduce contact with you to the bare minimum."

Draco took some time to think that over.

"He's been preparing me for this, hasn't he,' he whispered.

Lucius winced. "I believe so. I also believe that encouraging you to assist him punish your attacker was to both test you, and give him something that could be applied as leverage should it be needed. You must understand, Draco, that if you choose to accept the offer, you will be required to do many things like that, and worse. You will almost certainly be asked to kill for him. Possibly even die for him. Is that something you're willing to accept?"

"You work with him; I know you said it's a different type of relationship, but how do you find him as an ally? Is he worth the risk? Would it be like people say serving the Dark Lord was like?"

"As you say, my situation is different. But based on my investigations, I would say that there are some similarities with the Dark Lord's reign. Absolute loyalty will be demanded, and any deviation from that will be punished with a painful death. You will never be able to leave, and you must follow your orders to the absolute best of your ability. But you will be treated much better than the Dark Lord's followers ever were. Vahan is known for taking care of his people, it's a large part of why he commands such passionate devotion. To the best of my understanding, Harry is Vahan's personal representative, and is the highest ranking in the organisation bar Vahan himself. He is not to be underestimated, and it would not be wise to try to manipulate him if you want to live. If you serve, you serve faithfully."

Draco nodded, looking slightly chagrined at being so transparent. He realised that Harry must be considerably more dangerous that he'd thought, if even his father feared crossing him. He shivered slightly at the thought of what he might have to do in the service of such a person, but the idea of being cast aside by the boy he considered his best friend filled his stomach with such dread that he nearly vomited what little breakfast he'd eaten. He just had one remaining question.

"You always told me that a Malfoy bows to no one. Would you be angry if I said yes? Would that be bowing to someone?"

Lucius sighed heavily, the uncharacteristically expressive action causing Draco's eyes to widen comically.

"No, son, I wouldn't be angry. I've suspected something like this was coming. As for bowing, there is no shame in serving a worthy master to the best of your ability. The Dark Lord took from us, raping our name and reputation and forcing us to grovel. He was not half the man he claimed to be. One such as Vahan will let us serve with dignity. While being the leader is by far the more preferable option for a member of our family, it is not the only option. Just know that whatever you decide, you will always be my son, and I will support you in any way I can."

Draco looked at his father silently, weighing his words. He knew the horror stories of what had happened to his father under the Dark Lord; cautionary tales told quietly as evidence to support the family teachings. He understood that for his father to approve of serving the shadowy underworld figure was no small thing. He took a deep breath, and prepared to step away from his father's shadow for the first time.

"I'll do it," he stated firmly.

* * *

Harry sipped at a glass of water, placing it down on the table next to him before turning the page of his book. His eyes flicked to the clock, noting that his meeting had been finished for a good twenty minutes now. The other attendees had come and gone through the floo, preventing anyone outside the room seeing who they were.

He glanced over at the chairs where Sergei and Alex sat, playing cards while they waited for Harry to summon the Malfoys in from the hallway in which he had left them to languish since the meeting began.

"How long are you going to make them wait, Sir?" Alex asked quietly, laying down a card and picking up another from the pile.

Harry hummed lightly, taking another sip of water.

"Who knows? Probably not much longer. Though I think I'll call Draco in first; that should rile old Lucius up nicely." He turned back to his book, idly wishing it was something more interesting and less fictional.

Sergei chuckled. "Setting rank?"

Harry smirked. "No, just feel like fucking with him a bit. I doubt the peacock has to wait very often; it'll do him some good."

The older men grinned, returning to their game, and quiet returned to the room, broken only by small scuffing noises from the cards and the occasional page turning.

Another ten minutes, and Harry lost patience with his book. He really didn't understand the appeal of fiction; it seemed like a waste of time to him when there were many more productive things to read.

"Alright, bring Draco in," he ordered, putting the book aside with barely concealed relief.

Alex stood and went to the door, ushering in the pale and lightly trembling boy, guiding him to the seat next to Harry. They'd deliberately chosen a sitting room off to the side of the conference room in which they'd held the meeting, in the hope that the more casual setting might help Draco feel more at ease.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco's almost grey skin tone, and rolled his eyes.

"Jinky," he called, quietly requesting some tea for them all. He nodded at the elf's silent question about lacing the other boy's drink with a Calming Draft.

After they were all settled and sipping - and Draco didn't look on the verge of hyperventilating anymore - Harry cleared his throat.

"Alright, Draco, I have a few jobs for you to begin with, and we need a plan for Hogwarts. Before we go any further, though, I'll be needing a vow from you."

Draco looked at the serious expression on Harry's face, and turned to see it mimicked with a suitably menacing undertone on the two mercenaries. Throat suddenly dry, he took a gulp of his tea.

* * *

An hour after Draco had been called in, Lucius exited the room after his own meeting to find his son waiting for him. He'd been kept waiting nearly all morning, and his temper was shorter than he knew was safe given his current location.

"Tell me," he purred, his cane tapping sharply on the marble floor as he strode down the hall to the exit. "Did you and your new employer enjoy making me wait pointlessly in the hall? One would almost think it a deliberate move to irritate me." He studied his son from the corner of his eye, and noted the conflicted look on the boy's face.

Draco frowned and chewed his lip. It was true that Harry had kept Lucius waiting after finishing with Draco, but he wasn't sure how much freedom he had to give information to his father beyond what was ordered. He didn't want to trigger the loyalty vow, but even beyond that, it didn't feel right to pass information to someone unauthorized. His father had always taught him that confidentiality in business was sacrosanct. That said, this was his _father_ , the man that he had always relied on, who guided and advised him every day of his life.

Clearing his throat, Draco opened his mouth, studiously avoiding looking at his father. "I…" He licked his lips nervously. "I don't think Harry would be happy if I talked about our meeting?"

He flinched slightly when the man next to him stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Lucius looked at his son, studying him carefully. The boy was pale and delicate, his gangly frame evidence of the willowy grace he would inherit from his mother when he grew into his limbs, but otherwise he was a perfect clone of Lucius himself. It was obvious that Draco was serious about the decision he'd made, and was trying to act accordingly. He felt a mix of pride and grief as he realised that for all that he was only eleven years old, the child he had held and comforted and played with not even two days ago was already striking out to become his own man. Reaching out, he rested a hand on the boy's narrow shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm proud of you, son."


	2. Chapter 2

Petunia Dursley smiled as she opened the door, the expression freezing as she was greeted by two extremely intimidating black men with unearthly blue eyes. She remembered them, it was impossible not to. These twins, because they had to be, had accompanied the man that had bought the Freak. A small movement between the men drew her attention, and she gaped, her bony hand fluttering to the base of her overly long neck to clutch her pearls.

The Freak stood there, calm and confident, and looking nothing like the scrawny little waif that they'd tossed to that man for a handful of bills. He was taller, and his unmanageable hair had been grown to just below his shoulders and pulled back into a smooth ponytail. A wispy fringe feathered across his forehead, distracting from that horrible scar, and thin wire framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Hello Aunt Petunia," Harry chirped cheekily, raising his wand. " _Imperio_."

Petunia's face went slack, and Harry grinned viciously. Strolling past the vulnerable woman, he paused in the doorway to the lounge room, one hand tucked in his pants pocket and weight on one hip.

Alex had to fight down a chuckle. His Sir looked like a fashion model, dressed in impeccable Armani and posing like that. He heard Sergei huff a breath next to him, and knew that the older man was thinking the same thing.

"What are you doing back here, Freak?" The walrus bellowed, turning an unattractive shade of purple as he tried to heave his bulk up from the couch.

Harry's lip lifted in revulsion. "Oh, now that's just pathetic. _Imperio_ ," he flicked his wand lazily, his spell settling easily over the blustering man.

The boy directed the adults to sit next to each other on the couch, and turned to his disguised guards. "Check the house. Make sure there are no magical traps or monitors, and find Dudley. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible."

The men nodded and separated, wands flicking as they scanned every inch of the home. Returning inside of five minutes, they both shook their heads; no magical anything, and no Dudley.

Harry sighed lightly and focused on Petunia. "Where is Dudley?"

"With his friends," the woman answered in monotone. Her eyes remained blank, staring straight ahead, hands folded demurely in her lap.

"I see." Harry glanced at Alex, who nodded and pulled his mobile from his pocket, texting the wayward boy, instructing him to return home immediately.

While they waited for Dudley, they sat, chatting about nothing in particular and sipping the excellent tea that Jinky popped in to deliver.

It was barely ten minutes before Dudley thundered in, huffing from exertion. He bent over, hands braced on his knees as he heaved air into his straining lungs.

"I'm, I'm here!" He gasped, oblivious to his unusually still parents.

Harry observed his state with a small frown. While it was true that Dudley was merely a low level grunt in his organisation, his primary mission of watching for any magical contacts was important. Important enough that he didn't want to risk him getting caught up with the police because he couldn't run fast enough to get away, and missing something. Cutting a glance to the looming guards, he was pleased to see them nod back, interpreting his orders. Dudley would find a few additions to his compulsions after tonight.

"Hello Dudley, long time no see." Harry put his teacup and saucer on the side table and stood, absently fastening his jacket. "I need your rattiest set of clothes. The sort of thing your mother would have given me before I left."

Dudley nodded uncertainly. "Um, do you need, er, under things too?"

Harry grimaced. "She never used to give me any, so I'll pass this time. Thank you for being thorough, though."

The obese boy beamed, filled with pride. He wasn't sure _why_ exactly, but he couldn't really recall a time when he was genuinely praised for something he'd done. His parents fawned over every little thing he did, but it was obvious that it wasn't genuine, and that really took the sense of accomplishment out of it.

He turned, hurrying as best he could up to his room, stepping over the toys and sweet wrappers that he'd left on the floor that morning. He rummaged through his dresser, frowning at a few of his shirts as he tried to work out which was the most worn. Finally tossing all of them in a pile, he added a couple of pairs of jeans, some socks, two pairs of shoes, and three jackets. Bundling them all up, he staggered back to the door, falling with a thud as he fell over the things on the floor. Muttering irritably to himself, he resolved to stop leaving things around in a mess. What if he had to leave quickly in an emergency? What if the Boss came in one day? He'd be mortified to show him a room in this state. Maybe he should get rid of some things; isn't that what people did when they were trying to clean up? He shook his head. Nah. His things were his; he'd just stop leaving them on the floor. Shuffling cautiously down the stairs, he offed his armful to his rather intimidating cousin.

"I wasn't sure, so you can take what you like from these. Or all of them, if you want." He stuttered to a halt, suddenly embarrassed.

Harry nodded, taking the bundle. Dumping them on the chair, he sifted through them quickly.

"Perfect, thank you. I'll take these. May I borrow a few other pieces too, just for show? I'm not expecting to need them for very long."

Dudley nodded vigorously. "Mum was going to get rid of some of them anyway, so do what you like with them. Do you need anything else?"

Harry considered for a moment. "I don't think so. Go sit down, we have a few things to sort out once I get changed."

The boy took his selected clothes to the bathroom, changing quickly. Emerging, he regretfully handed his suit to Alex and sat in one of the remaining chairs.

"Alright, Dudley, sit back and relax." Harry gestured to his guards, watching closely as they drew their wands and quickly began memory charming the Dursleys and glamouring Harry to look like his old self.

The plan was a simple one, really. Given Harry's fame in the Wizarding World, the likelihood of being allowed to slip through the cracks during admission was close to zero. Whichever school got him onto their books would benefit immensely from it, and he was willing to bet nearly everything he had that Dumbledore had taken steps to prevent any other schools from contacting him to offer a place.

Since Harry hadn't replied to the acceptance letter, which of course he wouldn't have been able to, had he still been living with the Dursleys, Harry was expecting that Dumbledore would send someone to collect him.

Harry was _very_ interested to see who that someone would be.

Glancing up, he saw that Alex and Sergei were done. All going to plan, the Dursleys would be unaware that he had ever been gone, and would treat him exactly as he would have if he'd been there the entire time. One of his people would come and break the charms as soon as it was clear he'd left with Dumbledore's lackey.

Seeing his men to the door, he saw their commiserating looks and offered a rueful smile back.

"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "I've got all my goodies from Shot, and my portkeys. Just take care of Connor for me." His face twisted slightly, still feeling guilty for leaving the distraught boy behind.

Sergei nodded sharply and stepped out of the house, while Alex rested a hand on Harry's shoulder briefly before doing the same.

The click of the closing door sounded ominously through the otherwise silent house.

"BOY!" Vernon shouted.

With a sigh, Harry let his shoulders slump and put on his Dursley slave persona again.

* * *

The booming knock on the door shook the house just as everyone was settling down for the night.

Harry rolled his eyes, curled up in his cupboard. At least they had waited to send whoever it was until after dark.

He could hear Vernon huffing and snarling to himself as he stomped down the stairs, shaking dirt from between the floorboards to rain down on Harry's face. Curling his lip in disgust, he brushed what he could from his hair and pressed an ear to the door, listening intently.

"Name's Rubeus Hagrid," came a booming voice, followed by shuffling as the newly introduced visitor pushed in through the door. "I'm come for 'Arry."

Harry winced as he heard Vernon puff up. Oh, this _really_ wasn't going to end well. Deciding to cut off the brewing explosion, he pulled on a pair of Dudley's old shoes, and pushed the cupboard door open, climbing out and shutting it behind him.

"The cupboard is sorted, Uncle Vernon. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were expecting company. I'll go get cleaned up." He moved to head up the stairs, eyeing the newcomer curiously.

The man was wild, in every sense of the word. A massive bushy beard peppered with what appeared to be leftover biscuits - _and a bird_ \- blended into equally thick and untamed hair, both long enough to reach mid chest. Standing at twice the height of an average man, and wider than even Vernon, he was certainly memorable; though perhaps not in the way one might want to be.

"You mus' be 'Arry then. Look jus' like your father, you do. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts. But you'd be knowing all about that, now, wouldn't you!" He smiled warmly. The man was a giant, forced to bend so he didn't hit his head on the ceiling, and he was very clearly the outdoorsy type. Not in the handsome adventurer way that you saw promoted on the front cover of dramatic autobiographies and documentaries about beating the odds, but more in the 'please step outside, Sir; you look like you live in a cave, and smell like it too' way.

Harry breathed as shallowly as he could manage without fainting.

"Oh, I nearly forgot; this is for you!" Hagrid reached into his tent sized jacket, and pulled out a partially squashed box, handing it to the staring boy. "Baked it myself, words and all," he announced proudly. "Might have sat on it at some point, but I imagine it'll taste the same!"

Harry gingerly took the box that the oaf had apparently smuggled under his sweaty armpit for god knows how long, and opened the lid. Inside was a cake with green frosting, and Happy Birthday Harry written in pink across the top. Quickly applying Grateful Smile number five, he thanked the man, trying not to gag at the scent of far too much sugar combined with body odour that seemed to cling to the cardboard.

"He'll not be going to that Freak School! I won't have it!" Vernon finally shouted, his face a shade of purple that had Harry gleefully wonder if he was about to see a genuine case of spontaneous human combustion. Or at least a spectacular heart attack.

"Oh, and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop him," Hagrid mocked, tossing a wink at Harry.

The boy frowned. This was not how to handle Vernon; in fact it was only going to make him more pig headed and unpleasant about this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, but can you please explain what's going on? What's Hogwarts, and what Freak School is Uncle Vernon talking about?"

Outrage twisted Hagrid's face, and he glared accusingly at Vernon, and then up at Petunia who was apparently cowering on the landing while clutching Dudley to her.

"'E doesn't know? 'Ow can 'e not know?! It's a crime, it is! Not a child in our world that don't know 'is name, an' 'e don't even know what 'e is!" The huge man seemed driven near to tears by the thought, and gave Harry a look as if he'd just been diagnosed with something imminently terminal.

Harry observed absently that his accent had thickened noticeably as his upset had increased.

"You're a wizard, 'Arry."

The words hung in the air, ringing with all the importance of a death knell at midnight.

Harry had to fight down a giggle. "A what? Like, a magic wizard? Don't be ridiculous; there's no such thing as magic!" He scoffed, crossing his arms and levelling Hagrid a look as if to say 'pull the other one, mate'.

Hagrid shook his head slightly, his sorrowful look being replaced by patient amusement.

"Have you ever done anything strange when you were angry, or upset? Something you couldn't explain?"

Harry pretended to think.

"I suppose, but that doesn't mean it's _magic_."

Hagrid smiled indulgently. "It's true, and you're going to love Hogwarts! That's where your parents learned it all! Greatest magic school in the world, under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore!"

"If you think I'm going to pay to have some crackpot old fool teach the boy magic tricks, you can think again! He'll not be going!" Vernon interjected again, having backed up a few stairs to make himself a more equal height with the giant - and get himself out of arms reach.

A thunderous expression crossed the wild man's face, and with surprising speed, he whipped out a pink children's umbrella, brandishing it in Vernon's face.

"Don't you ever," he growled, "insult Albus Dumbledore in my presence."

Deciding that this had gone on long enough, Harry dropped the cake, flipping the edge of the box with his fingers to ensure it landed upside down with a splat.

"Oh, oops!" He blinked up at Hagrid innocently. "I'm sorry!"

Softening, Hagrid bent down to scoop what he could back into the box.

"'S'all right, no need to worry," he practically cooed. "I can make another one when you get to Hogwarts."

Harry beamed, his green eyes shining angelically.

"Really? Oh, thank you!" His face fell. "But, Uncle Vernon said…"

Hagrid scowled. "You've been down to attend since you were born. You'll be going, no matter what your uncle says."

"Is it a boarding school?" Harry asked, looking interested. "It must be far away, since I haven't heard of any schools locally that teach magic tricks."

"Aye, it's a boarding school," Hagrid answered absently, wiping icing off his fingers with a spotted handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth. "But it teaches magic, real magic, not tricks."

"So, I'd be away for nine months of the year?" Harry perked up. "Uncle Vernon, that would be a good thing, right? You were saying just the other day that Dudley will be boarding at Smeltings, and that it was a shame I wouldn't be accepted there. This is the next best thing, right?"

Vernon's piggy eyes gleamed at the thought of getting rid of the nuisance. "What about school fees and the like? I'll not be paying for this!"

Hagrid frowned and shook his head. "It's all been taken care of," he answered slowly.

Vernon cheered up immediately. "In that case, take the boy and get out. We don't want to see the Freak again," he glanced at Petunia and scowled. "Until next summer," he allowed grudgingly.

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Hagrid pulled him close to his side in what he obviously thought a protective and consoling gesture.

"He's no freak! This boy is as special as they come, and you're blind if you can't see what a good lad he is!" Looking down at a red faced Harry, he grinned weakly. "C'mon, me lad. We'll spend the night at the Leaky."

Harry followed after the hulking brute, eyes watering. Even though Hagrid had released him from his protective hold, he could still smell the reek of livestock and unwashed bumpkin. Taking a discrete sniff of his clothing, he gagged slightly. Oh god, it was _on him_! He wondered if there was enough soap in the world to fix this.

* * *

Harry glanced around the Leaky Cauldron, amused to spot Sergei propped up in the corner with a beer. Nodding slightly, he turned back to Hagrid, horrified to realise that the man had only gotten a single room.

"Alrigh' 'arry, I got us a room so we can be up and in the Alley early on. Avoid the worst of the crowds that way." He winked, smiling as if he had just imparted some great nugget of wisdom.

Nodding politely, Harry followed him up the stairs, rolling his eyes at the state of the room. While clean and tidy, it clearly hadn't been updated any time recently, and everything was worn and shabby. For the primary portal between the muggle and magical world, and one that did a roaring trade at that, they certainly didn't spend the profits on upkeep.

Settling himself on the small bed tucked tightly near the wall, Harry watched Hagrid sprawl diagonally across the king size bed on the other side of the room, noting how his feet still hung off the bed by an uncomfortable margin. Snoring began quickly, and Harry grimaced. He definitely wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

Heading into the bathroom to freshen up and wait a suitable amount of time before sneaking out to meet Sergei, Harry glared at his reflection in the mirror. Scrawny, sickly pale, and messy.

"You look a fright, my dear," the mirror offered.

"I'm aware," Harry responded dryly. "Don't worry, I usually take much better care of myself. I'll be back to normal in no time."

Turning his back to the mirror, he discretely drew his wand and cast the obscuration charm at himself. Slipping down from the bathroom, he checked to make sure Hagrid was as deeply asleep as he seemed, then scuttled out the door and down the stairs.

All but falling into the seat opposite Sergei, he leaned back, glad that his guard had grabbed a booth.

Sergei smirked, pushing a glass of butterbeer to him and flicking his wand to set up privacy and proximity wards.

"So how did it go?" He asked, his accent a little thicker than usual.

Harry eyed him over the top of the glass, then shrugged and let it go.

"About as well as can be expected. Will Alex be joining us or will you be filling him in later?"

"Later. He felt that one of us should stay with Connor, especially at the moment. Poor kid isn't taking this well."

Sighing, Harry took a deep draw from his drink. "I know. It can't be helped though. I'll write to him as often as I can, and arrange visits where possible too. I'll probably sneak out of school a fair bit once I have a grip on their security measures anyway."

Sergei smirked. "Funny thing about old castles; they tend to have lots of secret passages and escape routes, if you know where to look."

Harry grinned. "So I've heard. I'd love a map of them; for historical purposes only, of course."

The Russian chuckled. "Of course!"

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks and watching the other patrons.

"So what do you make of your escort?" Sergei eventually asked, even as he eyed a busty brunette in a short skirt draping herself on the bar.

Harry rolled his eyes. "The man is a fool. Dim-witted and with barely a passing nod to personal hygiene. That said, he is extremely loyal to Dumbledore which is why I suspect he was sent to collect me. Too dumb to realise something is wrong with my living situation, and all too willing to tell me what a great man the headmaster is. I suspect that he will be useful to pump for information later. He seems the sort to blither when given half the opportunity." Pausing, Harry mulled over his observations of the man. "His loneliness can be used against him. If I cultivated a friendship with him, his loyalty would easily extend to me as well, I think. He could prove to be a valuable resource if I play him right."

Sergei raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have acquired a particular odour, which I assume came from him. Can you tolerate that long enough to be in close proximity on a regular basis?"

Grimacing, Harry shook his head. "I really couldn't. Which is why you're going to teach me some sort of charm to help me not smell it. And hopefully one to get stubborn smells off me."

With a chuckle, Sergei drew his wand. "I'm surprised we haven't needed to cover this before, given the amount of dead bodies we come in contact with."

Harry smirked. "When you say it like that we sound like degenerates! Shame on you, Sergei!"

* * *

The shopping trip had all the makings of a nightmare, and Harry wasn't having it.

First stop was Gringotts, where Harry discovered that Hagrid had been possession of a key to his vault; a key that was not returned to him but was dropped back into cavernous vermin filled pockets, along with a mysterious package that was obviously set up to entice his curiosity. Dull.

By the time they had returned in the carts, it was clear that news of Harry's return to the wizarding world had spread, and the poor boy was nearly mobbed. The Goblin security guards were required to control the crowd, which Harry thanked the startled creatures for profusely, but that didn't help much once they were back on the street.

"You don't mind if I stop back at the Leaky for a bit of a pick me up, do you 'Arry? I'm afraid those carts…" He trailed off, looking a little green.

"I don't mind at all," Harry smiled angelically. "Though, do you think I could have my vault key please? I only took out a little bit of gold because I didn't want to waste it, but now I'm worried that I might need to go back and get a bit more. There is an awful lot of things to get," he glanced at the list, chewing his lip worriedly.

"That's a wise thought," Hagrid beamed, digging into his pocket for the key. "Savin' your money like that. Keep that attitude and you'll be richer than the Malfoy's one day!"

Harry smiled back, taking the key and slipping it into a pocket in his wrist band while pretending to put it in the pocket of his trousers. He watched as Hagrid hurried off to the pub, and rolled his shoulders.

Glancing around, he slipped into the alley behind him, and leaned against the wall.

"Aw, look at our boy, all grown up and starting school!" Marcel cooed, clinging to Sergei's arm like a proud parent. "Makes you just want to hug him, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," the Russian grunted, scanning the crowd and ignoring the playful medic. "He may be little, but he'll still gut you like a fish."

"Unlike you?" Marcel smiled, running a hand along the mercenaries jaw. "You're all prickly. It would be like hugging a cactus!"

"Well, he can be a giant prick," Harry chimed in blandly. Ignoring Marcel's laughter and the dirty look from Sergei, Harry pulled his list out again. "Alright, I have no intention of shopping for all of this today, especially since I seem to be the latest tourist attraction. Sergei, kill the glamour. I want you trailing me as normal while I pick up a school trunk and robes. Marcel, pick up the potions requirements for me, double the required amount and only the things that are of suitable quality; I doubt they waste the good stuff in student kits. Get anything else you think I'll need for this year, but don't go overboard. After that, pick up my books for me. We can meet up at Floreans for ice cream before getting my official wand."

Sergei was already flicking his wand, dismantling the glamour and returning Harry to his usual sleek appearance. He pulled a change of clothes from his wrist band, handing it over and casting a quick privacy screen so his boss could change.

In just a few moments, Tiny stood before them, ruffling his long hair and tying it into a messy ponytail, completely unlike its usual smooth waves.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Tiny smirked.

* * *

The luggage shop was uneventful, the boy leaving with a trunk that was far superior to the school standard. Multiple compartments with space expansion charms on each, and ventilation charms just in case he or someone else 'fell in' and got trapped. The exterior was a nondescript brown wood, the corners and lock appearing to be a standard brass. Sergei had stepped in at that point, clearing his throat pointedly and asking about nonstandard security charms.

Apparently the shop keeper had had dealings with Sergei at one point or another, because he immediately added every single security charm and ward he knew, free of charge, and then threw in a free satchel and applied the same. The poor man was nearly sobbing when they left the shop, grateful to see the back of them.

Harry was relieved when robe shopping turned out to be marginally more entertaining. Bumping into Draco and pretending to be a clueless muggleborn had the potential for hours of fun, and was something he definitely intended to milk for all it was worth. The grey eyes glittering back at him with stifled amusement told him Draco was enjoying the game as much as he was.

"I wouldn't bother with the standard robes, if I was you," the blond sniffed haughtily. "If you get the higher quality fabric it hangs better, and it will last longer. You can also get customised charms to make them more comfortable."

Eyes wide, Harry stared at Draco in awe. "You can really do things like that? Whoa! Are you getting that?" At Draco's smug nod, he turned to the seamstress. "Madam Malkin? Can I please have that too? My uncle always says to get the best quality you can afford, so that it last as long as possible; so getting this would mean I'm being…" He screwed up his face in concentration. "Fis-cal-ly Responsible, right?"

Harry smiled angelically as all the adults cooed, and batted his eyelashes slightly. The stifled snort from Draco caused him to bite his lip to choke down his giggles. Oh yes, he was going to have fun with this.

* * *

Harry and Sergei sat down across from Marcel, placing their sundae's on the table.

"How did you go?" Harry asked, scooping a bit of Butterscotch Brittle into his mouth.

"I got everything on the list as you asked. You were right about the quality of the kits, by the way; I had to reject nearly half the ingredients." Marcel passed over the shrunken bags to Sergei, and took a bite of his own ice cream.

"Maybe we should set up our own shop," Harry mused. "Specialize in school supplies and supplementary material for students who are struggling."

Sergei quirked an eyebrow. "That's unusually altruistic of you, Boss."

Harry scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a marketing technique. It's a method used by big name brands like McDonalds, called Brand Imprinting for Later Actualization."

"How does it work?" Marcel asked, curious. He'd never been good at all of the business type things, but it was fascinating to see how his employers brain put things together.

"Alright, taking McDonalds for an example. They target the kids, get them young. You have bright colours and a friendly clown. You have areas for birthday parties, and play equipment, and you get a nifty little toy with every 'happy meal', right? Everything is fun and aimed to make them happy. They begin to associate McDonalds with pleasant memories and feeling good." He paused to eat some more, noticing his ice cream was starting to melt.

"Ok?" Marcel frowned, trying to follow how that would work long term.

"Ok, so the kids get older. They start to feel stressed and overwhelmed, and they think longingly of when they felt happy as a child. They see those golden arches and get hit with nostalgia so they pull in, hoping to relive a moment of happiness that they had there when they were younger."

Marcel's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "And you have an adult customer base that keeps coming back because McDonalds makes them feel less depressed about their shitty lives. And then they bring their kids there because they want them to be happy too. That's," he floundered, searching for the right word. "diabolical. And very clever!"

Harry nodded with a small smile. "I'd like to mimic that to a degree. If the children who use my store and products excel, then not only will they be superior to their peers, but their parents are more likely to trust anything else we bring out later that's associated with that brand."

Sergei chuckled. "And they'd trust any _one_ associated with that brand too, wouldn't they?"

The boy blinked innocently, spooning the last bite into his mouth.

Laughing, Marcel wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Alright, is it time to go get your official wand, yes?"

Harry and Sergei nodded, cleaning themselves up and checking to make sure they had all their packages. Standing, they exited, turning left as they headed down the cobblestone street.

Ollivander's shop left Harry feeling distinctly underwhelmed. Dusty, and shelves stacked floor to ceiling with premade wands, it was cramped and not particularly welcoming. It's only real redeeming feature was the lack of drafts and the pleasant scent of wood shavings that filled the air.

"Harry Potter," a wispy voice intoned from the shadows behind the door. "I wondered when I'd -erk!"

Harry turned with a glare, to see Sergei already had the thin old man held with a knife against his throat.

"Does that look like Harry Potter?" Sergei growled menacingly into his ear.

The old man's silvery eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head, mindful of the razor sharp steel kissing his skin.

"Er, no, no he doesn't!"

"And why do you think that is?" The Russian hissed.

"I understand. Please, there is no need for this," Ollivander said with quiet dignity.

At a nod from Harry, Sergei released his captive, making sure to leave a shallow cut on the side of his neck as a reminder.

Ollivander pressed a handkerchief against his neck and gave the hulking man a dirty look.

"Brute." Turning back to Harry, he applied a professional looking smile.

"Alright then, Mr Smith, shall we get you fitted?"

Harry smirked, and nodded.

"Please."

The old man rummaged around on the shelves, pulling out random boxes and humming to himself. Returning to the counter, he handed them one at a time to Harry, observing the reactions with a close eye. Wand after wand, combination after combination was rejected; explosions, fires, even a small tornado ripping through the store. Harry's personal favourite was when one wand cause many of the neatly stacked boxes on the shelves to explode out of place. The idea of this irritating man having to manually sort them all after he left made him feel unreasonably happy. He was aware that he had been unusually uncharitable in his assessment of people recently, but when he remember listening to Hagrid snore all night, he decided he could be as mean as he liked, as long as he didn't crack his mask.

Putting the final wand - walnut and dragon heartstring - down on the counter, he apathetically watched Ollivander mutter mysteriously and pull a particularly dusty box from a back shelf.

Picking up the wand from the box, he felt a surge of warmth up his arm, and sighed with relief. Finally, this hell was _over_!

"Curious," Ollivander murmured, eyeing Harry with apprehension.

"What's curious?" Harry asked absently, even as he put the wand back in its ratty box.

_Honestly_ , he thought to himself, _Gregorovitch presents his wares much better._

"The Phoenix who gave the feather that resides in your wand gave one other. _Only_ one other. It's curious that this wand should be destined for you, when it's brother is the one that gave you _that scar_." Ollivander looked like he wanted to reach over and touch the infamous mark, but a hard look from Sergei and a shake of his head from Marcel quickly had him changing his mind.

"So?" Harry asked tiredly.

Ollivander startled, lost in his thoughts. "Oh, it means that should you ever encounter someone wielding the brother wand, your wands will be ineffective against each other. Some might also say there is some sort of connection between the two of you, but honestly that's not something a wand can determine. Although I _do_ find it interesting that while you've bonded with this wand, it isn't a perfect match. I wonder why that is? A wand chooses the wizard, after all, and it's rare for a wand to choose a wizard who doesn't fit."

Harry thought of his custom wand in his wrist band and compared how the two of them felt. Nodding in agreement, he could see the man's point.

"Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see then, won't we?" Smiling, he dropped the required Galleons on the counter, and turned on his heel, sweeping out the door with his employee's in tow.

Ollivander sighed as he watched them leave. He hated to do this, but he could feel the Life Debt pushing for him to contact Dumbledore with the demanded information already. He hated that old goat, he really did. Reporting which children bonded with wands that had a natural predilection towards Dark Arts was bad enough, but now he was being forced to report on a young man that was much more than he seemed. He made a mental note to update his Will.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry scowled, looking around the crowded platform at Kings Cross. People jostled him, shoving him this way and that as they hurried around the station. Harry snarled to himself as he was knocked yet again, and quickly wheeled his over full trolley out of the main thoroughfare, and looked around again.

He'd been stuck in some out of the way hut with the rodent infested oaf for the past month, supposedly to keep him safe until it was time for Hogwarts. Hagrid had filled the time with talk of how the wizarding world worked, or at least a heavily biased version of it, and what a wonderful man the Headmaster was. There might have also been some ranting about Dark wizards and how Harry should be careful since he was famous and everyone wanted a piece of him.

Harry had been tearing his hair out by the end of the first day.

Now, however, he was at Kings Cross Station, preparing to get the train to Hogwarts. The only 'issue' was that Hagrid had dropped him off with a cheery smile and a wave, without telling him how to get onto the platform. Fortunately Harry was already aware of that little piece of information through his preparatory reading, but it irked him regardless. Overgrown fool.

Sighing, he looked around, eyes pausing briefly on Alex as he sat on a bench with a newspaper open in his hands. He'd known that his men wouldn't leave him unprotected at such a vulnerable time. He couldn't see Sergei, but he had no doubt that he was lurking as well.

Leaning against the wall, he continued his visual scan. Dumbledore clearly had some plan in mind, and Harry was waiting to see what it was. His money was on a plant of some sort, someone to continue feeding Harry the biased information that would lead him in the 'right' direction.

"It's the same year after year. Always packed with muggles, of course."

A stout woman with red hair bustled past, several equally red haired children in tow as she loudly drew attention to herself.

_Bingo_ , Harry thought to himself, mentally handing himself ten pounds.

"Come on, Platform 9 3/4 this way! All right Percy, you first."

The woman played her part well, but Harry could see her eyes darting around periodically, lingering particularly on any scrappy looking young boys in the vicinity. Good thing he was dressed in proper clothing, then, even if he still wore the Old Harry glamour, otherwise she might have focused on him more than he was willing to tolerate just yet.

"Fred, you next," she said to one of the boys, obviously an identical twin given his doppelganger beside him.

"I'm not Fred, he is!" The boy cried indignantly.

The other twin shook his head sadly. "Honestly woman, and you call yourself our mother."

Harry made a mental note to see if the twins were worth recruiting. Their family was obviously supposed to get close to him, but twins who's own parents couldn't tell them apart were bound to be feeling a bit discontent. They might make worthwhile spies into Dumbledore's little schemes.

"Oh, sorry George," the woman said, glancing around again.

The boy grinned cheekily. "Just kidding, I am Fred!" He ran quickly at the wall, disappearing before his mother could swat him over the head, his laughing twin right on his heels.

The woman huffed, glancing around again and stalling by fiddling with the last boy's clothes.

Harry smirked, maintaining his position out of her direct line of sight.

"Now remember, Ron," the woman said quietly. "Harry is going to be on the train with you, and this will all be very new to him. You must be kind, and help him to learn his way around our world. Take him under your wing, and protect him from the people who would only want to use him for his fame. You understand?"

The boy nodded, his face red as his mother fixed his collar.

"Alright dear, through you go. You can find Harry on the train."

Harry watched as the woman and her daughter followed Ron through the barrier, and shook his head. Pathetic, really.

He straightened slightly as Sergei materialised next to him.

"I assume you caught that?" The Russian muttered.

Harry nodded silently, pretending to fiddle with his packages on the trolley next to him.

"Will you let him close?"

"For a little while," Harry decided. "I'm more interested in those twins."

Sergei smirked. "That was the Weasley family, easily identifiable by red hair, poor clothing, and too many children for them to comfortably support. Their father, Arthur, is a good man, but that wife of his is a right harpy. Rumour has it that she trapped him into marriage via love potion. Unconfirmed, but persistent enough to make people wary of dealing with her. She was a Prewitt by birth."

Harry nodded, remembering his lessons about the main families. "The Prewitts were formidable warriors, especially the twins Fabian and Gideon who were killed in the last war. The women in the family were known to be skilled potioneers, but graspingly ambitious. The Weasleys were well respected and well off, though not enough to classify as rich. Upper middle class. I can see why a Prewitt would want a Weasley, but not why a Weasley would want a Prewitt. Investigate the rumour, if it's true it could make for some interesting leverage."

Nodding, Sergei bumped his arm slightly with his elbow. "You'd best be going, you don't want to miss the train."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Harry took the handles of his trolley. "Alright. Keep an eye on everything for me, and make sure Shot has everything she needs for her projects. I want her kept as happy as possible for as long as she is providing results and new toys." He paused, half turning back. "Just, don't spoil her. And keep Connor out of the biscuit tin!" Decisively, he turned back and disappeared through the wall.

Sergei smirked, glancing at his partner as Alex walked over and stopped next to him. Rolling his eyes when he heard a sniffle, he handed Alex a tissue.

"Our boy is all grown up," the British man sniffed. "And we can't even see him onto the train ourselves!"

"Stop snivelling, Charleston. We have work to do." The Russian stalked off, face stern. And if a part of him agreed with Alex, well, he'd never tell.

* * *

The platform was even more crowded than the muggle side, though Harry was more interested in the fact that the Hogwarts express was a _steam_ engine. He watched the billows of smoke rising from the chimney, and shook his head. So outdated.

Wrangling his trolley over to the baggage section, he patiently waited for the attendant to notice him, then 'helped' load Warthogs crate and his trunk. Once he was sure Warthog was settled safely, he climbed into the passenger sections, making his way through the train until he found an empty compartment. He was glad he'd had the foresight to sedate her for this trip, otherwise she'd be kicking up a right fuss at being trapped in a box for so long. The last thing he needed was her bitching nonstop in his head the for entire trip. She'd never quite gotten over her anxiousness about enclosed spaces, even after the bonding. Hardly surprising really, given how he'd found her.

Sitting, he rifled around in his satchel, pulling out a copy of Hogwarts: A History. He'd already read it of course, but he had a role to play. After a moment of thought, he also pulled out a small bag of chocolate biscuits that he'd felt Sergei slip into his bag while they talked. He grinned as he bit into one, recognising Connor's efforts in its lumpy shape and varying thickness. His boy had recently decided he wanted to learn how to cook after discovering that Harry could, and ever since had been feeding his efforts to anyone in close proximity. Fortunately the house elves supervised closely, and ensured that his creations were are least edible.

Hearing a knock on the compartment door, he pushed the baggie of cookies back into his satchel, unwilling to share them with a stranger. He grimaced, quickly licking his teeth clean and checking his face and lap for crumbs. He really should do something about his possessiveness about food; it was a dead giveaway about his past.

The person in the corridor slid open the door without waiting for an invitation, sticking his head in.

"Do you mind if I sit in here? Everywhere else is full." The youngest red headed boy from the station asked.

Harry thought for a moment, trying to remember his name. Oh yes, Ron.

"Sure," he said shyly, fiddling with the edge of his jacket.

Ron walked in, dropping onto the opposite seat with a thump.

"Thanks. I'm Ron by the way; Ron Weasley."

Harry nodded, smiling politely. "Harry Potter."

The dark haired boy watched as the red head stared at him, mouth agape. He fought down a Malfoy-esque sneer, and bit back the unflattering comments that wanted to burst from his lips. There would be time enough for that later, assuming the ginger monkey was even capable of understanding half the insults that were going to be flung his way.

"Do you have, you know," he glanced around and dropped his voice. "The _scar_?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, his face growing cold. "You mean the one from a murder attempt that robbed of me of my parents and everyone who was supposed to care for me? Yes." He kept the other boy pinned with his gaze for a moment longer, before shifting to look out the window.

Ron swallowed awkwardly. "Sorry," he offered. "It's just that you're a real celebrity, you know? I've never met someone famous before."

Harry scoffed. "I'm just a person, same as you. It's just that more people know my name. I'm not any different than the next bloke."

The hero worship grew visibly in Weasley's eyes. "Yeah, yeah, of course!"

They lapsed into silence as Harry pointedly went back to his book. The time passed slowly, Ron shifting and huffing in boredom after only a few minutes.

"Do you want to play a game?" He asked, pulling a deck of battered cards out of his pocket hopefully.

"I'm reading," Harry said, without looking up.

"Oh, come on," Weasley whined, wiggling the cards in a way that Harry supposed was intended to be enticing. "There's heaps of time to read later."

"Please, I really want to read," Harry muttered, thinking mutinously of his cookies and wishing the other boy would go away so he could eat another one.

"Oh, don't be boring! Just a few rounds, it'll be fun!"

Harry sighed quietly, recognising that he wouldn't be allowed to read uninterrupted. "Fine." He put his book aside, leaving it on the bench seat next to him. He waited while Ron dealt the cards and explained the rules - which Harry already knew thanks to Sergei and Alex's version of 'cultural studies' - and played a few hands of Exploding Snap.

When the door to the compartment slid open again, Harry nearly sobbed in relief. Finally, a distraction! He'd been contemplating the pros and cons of throwing one of Shots new liquid grenades just to get out of another round of this entirely too predictable game.

Draco stood in the doorway, flanked by two hulking boys that looked to have the combined intelligence of a roast chicken.

"Is it true? I heard Harry Potter was in here." The blond boy said, eyes flicking dismissively over Ron before settling on Harry.

"I'm Draco Malfoy." He offered his hand, which Harry shook firmly.

Ron snorted derisively, drawing the Malfoy heir's attention. He opened his mouth to snarl an insult, only to be reminded of their goal when the hand still holding his squeezed slightly. Sneering, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco." Harry said.

Draco frowned. "You were raised by muggles, weren't you?" The blond asked cautiously.

Harry nodded, releasing his hand and inviting the three newcomers into the compartment with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, why?"

"Then you might not know. In our world, you only address close friends or family by their first name. It's considered quite rude to just assume that level of familiarity, especially in our level of society."

Ron scoffed and folded his arms crossly, but otherwise stayed quiet. It was true after all.

"I see," Harry murmured. "Thank you for telling me. There's so much that I don't know yet; I've only known I was a wizard since my birthday a month ago."

Draco smiled, eyes glinting with humour. "I'd be happy to help you out. There's a lot to learn, and someone as influential as you doesn't want to go offending people and making friends with the wrong sort if you can avoid it. That could cost you in the future."

At this, the redhead couldn't contain himself anymore.

"You'd know all about being the wrong sort, wouldn't you, _Malfoy_! Everyone knows your family is as Dark as they come!"

Harry frowned thoughtfully, but sat back to watch the altercation play out.

Draco snarled, but restrained his anger when he caught sight of Harrys relaxed pose against the window. He couldn't embarrass his boss so early into the piece; he still had to prove himself. Settling back in the seat, he pasted a condescending smirk onto his face.

"You should be careful, Weasley. After all, actions have consequences. Are you prepared to deal with yours?"

Harry stifled a smile, the barest glimmer of amusement showing in his emerald eyes. He glanced over at the as yet unintroduced hulks, and saw a similar glimmer in their eyes behind their dull expressions. Interesting.

"Malfoy," Harry interrupted, intent on stemming the imminently violently flailing from Weasley. "You didn't introduce your friends?"

Malfoy frowned, glancing at the two silent boys. "I apologise. This is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

Nodding politely, Harry offered his hand to both boys, shaking firmly. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you." Unable to resist stirring the pot a little, he cocked his head innocently. "What House does everyone think they'll be in?"

"Gryffindor!" Ron announced proudly. "My whole family is. It's the best House; House of the Brave!"

Harry nodded politely and turned to the other boys.

"Slytherin," Draco smirked. "The House for the Cunning and Ambitious." Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement, maintaining their silence.

Ron sneered, but was prevented from starting another argument by the door sliding open again.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" A girl with bushy brunette hair asked. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

Harry shook his head. "No, but you might want to ask a Prefect to see if they can track or call it somehow, before it gets trapped somewhere or hurt."

The girls face lit up in realisation. "Oh! Of course, thank you!" She turned to run off, but spun back and thrust her hand out. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Harry Potter," Harry sighed, shaking her hand and dropping it as soon as was polite.

Watching the girl practically start frothing at the mouth at his name, Harry felt a headache coming on.

"Are you really? I've read all about you!" She opened her mouth to continue, shoving her way onto the seat next to Goyle in anticipation, but Harry cut her off sharply.

"Yes, I saw those books too. Not a single one is accurate. In fact they are so inaccurate and poorly researched that I will be suing the authors as soon as I can find a suitable lawyer to handle it for me."

Hermione gaped, looking like Harry had just punched her in the stomach and kicked her puppy for good measure. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that neither I nor my guardians approved any books or merchandising using my name, and everything in the books touted as so called fact have no basis on anything beyond speculation at best. I never gave any interviews, and I was never examined by any of these so called experts. In fact, I didn't even know I was a wizard until my birthday a month ago. So anything that you think you know about me from those books, forget it." Harry scowled, while internally doing a little wiggle of excitement. Exploding First Years was _way_ more fun than Exploding Snap, and the little girl looked fit to burst.

Hermione looked devastated. "But-"

"Weren't you helping someone look for a toad?" Malfoy asked neutrally. He could see that Harry was up to something, and wasn't about to alienate anyone until he knew for certain what the plan was.

Hermione gasped and jumped up, practically running from the compartment with a shouted thank you over her shoulder.

Draco glanced at Harry and saw him flick his eye toward the door in a clear dismissal now that his role for the trip was done. Standing, he gathered up his goons with a glance, and turned back to the dark haired boy.

"I'll see you around, Potter. Feel free to come see me if you have any questions; I'd be happy to help." He smiled, eyes glittering with supressed laughter at the look of outrage on Weasley's face.

"Good riddance to the slimy snakes," Ron spat when the door shut, leaving the two boys alone again. "You really don't want to associate with the likes of them, you'll ruin your reputation. Everyone knows that Malfoy's dad was a Death Eater and bribed his way out of trouble. He claimed to be under the Imperious Curse, but nobody really believes it."

"Snakes aren't slimy," Harry said without looking up, his nose buried in his book again.

"What?" Ron frowned, confused.

"Snakes. They aren't slimy. I can't speak as to Slytherins, but reptiles as a general rule aren't slimy at all. If you're going to insult someone, at least be accurate." Harry's disinterested tone seemed to finally break through Weasley's self-absorbed haze, leaving the boy speechless.

"Wha-"

" _Shh!_ " Harry snapped, already completely fed up with the idiot. "I'm _reading_!"

And to Harry's joy, Weasley got finally got the message and silence reigned. For about ten minutes.

* * *

Harry's first view of Hogwarts left him in awe, despite his determination to be unimpressed.

Towering ramparts studded with parapets were silhouetted dramatically against the night sky, a multitude of windows glittering like scintillating gemstones from the candlelight flickering within; a breathtaking vision of medieval splendour, frozen in time like Aurora's estate in Elise's favourite fairy tale.

Harry squinted slightly and tilted his head, drawing the attention of Draco and Ron, both of which had crowded into the boat with him.

"How do planes overhead not see this? It has more buttresses than Uncle Vernon!"

Ron and Draco stared in confusion, while the fourth member of their boat, a dark skinned boy who'd introduced himself as Dean Thomas, snorted a laugh.

Harry settled back into his thoughts, ignoring the people around him for the moment. As they climbed out of the boats and up some slick stairs to a large wooden door, he could feel Ron and Draco jostling into position behind his shoulders, Draco firmly taking the right and refusing to budge. He should probably have a word with the blond about being so obvious, but he honestly didn't care right now.

Hagrid knocked on the door, which opened to reveal an older woman with a stern expression, her hair tightly bound back into a bun with a pointed hat perched on top.

Harry made a mental note to watch this one, she seemed the by the rules type.

"Firs' years, Professor!" Hagrid announced cheerfully.

"Thank you Hagrid, I'll take it from here." The Professor replied. She turned, leading them into an antechamber, before turning to address them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, I am Professor McGonagall. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Now, while you are here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. The sorting will begin momentarily; you should use this time to straighten yourselves up." She eyed Ron's dishevelled clothing and smudged nose disfavourably, lips pinching together into a thin line.

The redhead quailed under her gaze, shrinking back to partially hide behind Harry.

The young crime lord immediately counted that as yet another point against The Annoyance, and decided to shake the fool as soon as humanly possible. Turning to Draco, and noticing that Crabbe and Goyle were still lurking like bodyguards, he coughed slightly.

"Yes?" Draco looked at him inquisitively.

"Do I look ok? I don't have a mirror or anything." Harry affected a shy look.

Draco grinned, and reached up to straighten his collar and tie, pulling lightly on his robes to adjust the fall and make them square across the shoulders. He eyed Harrys short messy locks with a grimace.

"Not much I can do about the hair, I'm afraid. You should try growing it out. The extra weight will help it fall better and stop if from getting so wild."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Is there a way to make it grow faster magically? I hate looking so messy all the time. I couldn't help it before, but I have some proper clothes now, and anything else I can do to look better would be awesome. I didn't know until recently, but apparently my family was some sort of big deal in this world or something, and now that I know I'm famous as well," he paused with a grimace and look down, fiddling with his sleeve. "I figure I should at least make an effort, you know? I don't want to be an embarrassment. I want to do my family proud, even if they aren't around to see me." He added a blush for good measure.

Draco bit his lip, desperately trying not to laugh. The children around them were lapping it up, despite pretending not to listen. Weasley, however, looked like he was fighting down a fit of jealousy. His face nearly matched his hair!

"Well, come see me in the next few days and we'll see what we can do. We can grow your hair out and give you a decent haircut at least."

Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by Professor McGonagall coming back and ushering them into a single line.

Walking into what Harry knew was called the Great Hall, he glanced up at the enchanted ceiling. Impressed, he made a mental note to ask Alex if it was feasible to do something similar to his is Connor's bedroom ceilings. Maybe something to show the constellations in real time, regardless of weather. He paid scant attention to the other First Years being sorted, more interested in scanning the Hall for those twins. Ron had said that all his family were Gryffindor's, so he looked over there first. He spotted them easily, their orange hair standing out like a sore thumb. Watching them for a moment, he wondered how to go about approaching them.

"Harry Potter." His name was called.

Turning back to the front, he walked up the handful of steps, and sat himself on the rickety three legged stool. A large hat was placed on his head, falling down over his eyes.

"Well, what do we have here?" A voice said quietly in his ear. "Oh my, that's quite the history you have, lad! And a mind to match!"

"Excuse me," Harry projected mentally, careful to not shout at the entity rummaging through his head.

"Yes?" The voice asked.

"Can I assume that you are the Sorting Hat?"

"Indeed you can, Mr Potter." The Hat chuckled.

"May I ask your name?" Harry enquired politely.

"Albert," The Hat gave the impression of smiling. "We have limited time, so you might want to ask those questions that I can feel in your mind. Excellent Occlumency by the way, especially for someone so young. You have the basics down well."

"Thank you," Harry 'smiled' back. "You live in the Headmasters office during the year, yes?"

"Yes," Came the cautious reply.

"I want a spy in there. What will it take to make that spy be you?" The boy decided to skip any pretence of subtlety, since as Albert had pointed out, they were short on time.

"Ordinarily, I'd say nothing; but I've seen what's in your head, and I've seen and overheard a few things that make me worry about what that old man is up to. I won't give you information on other students, or anything personal, but I will tell you anything that I think is relevant to the safety of you or the student body as a whole."

Harry nodded mentally. "Reasonable. Your price?"

"I only see and learn what is in the heads of an endless parade of eleven year olds. I want knowledge. I've seen so many interesting things that I want to learn more of, but have no way to do so."

"I'm not certain how to go about teaching you," Harry admitted.

"Oh, no need. Just insert books into me, and I absorb the knowledge. You bring me books, put them in me, and replace them each week with a new set. I'll tell you if there is anything in particular I want to explore. Deal?"

"Deal," Harry said instantly. "Now, about my sorting…"

"Ah yes. I can see a determination for Ravenclaw. Why is that?"

"Because I need to be in a trusted position at the school. Slytherins are mistrusted automatically, Gryffindor's alienate too many groups, and nobody takes Hufflepuff's seriously. That leaves Ravenclaw. No major disputes with any other houses, trusted by all and able to freely associate with anyone they choose since they are effectively neutral unless it involves a book."

Albert paused for a second. "That's very well thought out; I can see you've put a lot of effort into you plans for your Hogwarts years. I wish you well with them. Oh, and the Headmasters current password is Sherbet, be sure to mind the wards. I'll be expecting my books in a week!"

Harry became aware of the silence in the hall, everyone waiting with barely restrained impatience for this monumental decision.

A rip in the brim opened up, and a voice rang out. "Slytherin!"

Harry had only a split second to respond before the Hat was whipped off his head by a flustered McGonagall.

"Oh, I am going to set you on _fire_ , you _son of a_ -"

A shocked silence fell over the Hall, while a stone faced Harry rose and moved towards the Slytherin table.

Draco smiled and began clapping, quickly followed by the rest of the Snakes, and they made a seat for him next to the blond aristocrat.

Sitting, Harry smiled gratefully at his new housemates, before looking down at his plate and clenching his jaw. He would have to rework _all_ of his plans now, and adjust how Draco would fit in with them. He mentally cursed Albert in every way he could think of. Still, at least he had a week to plan a suitable revenge.

The rest of the sorting passed in a haze of rapid plotting and some introductions that he barely spared enough attention to remember. At one point, Dumbledore had started the feast, and Harry had absently served himself a small plateful, trying to put together a balanced meal. He noted that everything was delicious, but the majority was so heavy and greasy that it made his stomach turn. With a sigh, he pushed the bulk of it aside, and picked at a salad and some bread. Yet another mental note was added to the pile; it seemed he needed to find the kitchen and speak to the House Elves to make sure he got food he could actually stomach.

Finally, Dumbledore tapped his glass, gaining everyone's attention.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, there are a few start of year announcements. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He levelled his twinkling gaze to the Weasley twins, and Harry added that to his mental file. Apparently they were troublemakers. Good.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch," he gestured to a ragged man near the main doors, standing sullenly next to a tattered long haired cat with red eyes, "has asked me to remind you that the 3rd floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

Harry carefully kept his face impassive, while mentally rolling his eyes. Well, at least he had a fairly good idea where Flamel's stone was now; that would save him some time. The only question was who, aside from the entire student body, the Headmaster was trying to tempt into going after it.

Standing with the rest of his housemates, Harry followed the prefects down into the dungeons. Nudging Draco, he smiled tentatively.

"Well, this will make helping with my appearance and social education easier, right?"

The blond grinned back, thrilled to have his best friend and boss so close. And best of all, he was away from Weasley!

"Indeed it will, Potter. We'll get you up to standard in no time, right?" He asked the other first years.

A chorus of agreement followed, and Harry indulged in a small but genuine smile.

This might be interesting after all.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The breath left Harry's lungs in a whoosh, his eyes flying open in pain as he struggled against the sudden weight crushing his chest. All remnants of sleep fled as he stared incredulously at Warthog. His familiar was perched on his chest, nose to nose with him and staring imperiously.

_"I want to wear the pink one,"_ she announced.

Harry wheezed, his face turning red as he fought to return air to his starving lungs. Having fifty kilograms of needle pointed death balanced on his ribcage was not particularly helpful toward that goal.

The puma watched him, waiting for a response. When one wasn't forthcoming, she shifted her weight and batted him in the face softly with a paw.

_"I said I want to wear the pink one."_

"Air!" Harry choked out.

Warthog huffed and jumped off him, reclining regally at the end of his bed.

"Was that really necessary?" Harry grumbled once he finished wheezing and clutching his chest in pain.

_"Yes. I want to wear the pink one. Besides, it's time to wake up. Everyone else is already awake, and you don't want to give them the opportunity to prank you."_ She flicked her tail lazily.

Harry grudgingly nodded in agreement. "You have a point, but next time do you think you could wake me without pain?"

_"Probably, but that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining."_

Harry shook his head and quickly checked to make sure his glamour was still in place before opening his green curtains and climbing out of bed.

Flinching when his feet touched the cold stone floor, he made a mental note to get a rug for next to his bed; he should probably dig his slippers out of his trunk too.

"You're up, good!" Draco called. "You seemed fairly out of it last night, so I'd imagine you don't really remember everyone's names. Did you want to be introduced again?"

Harry adopted his shy persona, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt.

"Would that be alright? I'm sorry I don't really remember. I was really shocked about my sorting, you know?"

Draco nodded sympathetically. "Understandable really. Everyone thought you'd be a Gryffindor for sure. You're going to be in for a rough time with the rest of the school now, but Slytherins stick together, and we look after our own. You'll be alright. Now, you met Crabbe, Goyle and myself on the train," the two hefty boys nodded silently, before going back to digging through their trunks. "Over there, you have Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. There's three girls in our year, but we can introduce you later."

Harry nodded a greeting, then turned to his trunk.

"Warthog, you said you wanted the pink one, right?" He called, rummaging through the box.

_"Yes."_ She responded, abandoning her comfortable spot hidden on his still mostly curtained bed and hopping down to walk over and sit next to him.

The other boys in the room screamed slightly, jumping away and huddling at the far side of the room.

"What the hell is that?" Yelped Nott.

Harry looked up, blinking in confusion. "This is Warthog, she's my familiar."

"You can't have a bloody _Mountain Lion_ at Hogwarts! There's got a be a rule about it!" Nott was beginning to hyperventilate.

Harry frowned. "There isn't. I read the handbook, charter, and all active decrees. Besides, she's a cat; we're allowed to have a cat, owl, or toad. _And_ she's bonded, so as long as I'm not being attacked, it's not like she'll eat any of the students or house elves or anything."

Warthog eyed Nott, and licked her muzzle. _"I might…"_

Harry shot her an amused glance.

Draco was huddled in the corner behind everyone, his hand clapped tightly over his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter. He knew he had to pretend to have never met Harry and Warthog before, but honestly, he was in danger of cracking a rib if he had to hold it in much longer. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his features and stepped forward.

"Can I pat her?"

Harry shrugged, glancing at Warthog for approval.

The massive cat stood, prowling over to Draco and butting her head under his hand, purring when he scratched behind her ears.

"She likes you," Harry commented, finally retrieving the requested pink collar. "Warthog? Come on, let's get you dressed."

The other boys watched with dropped jaws as Warthog gave Draco's hand an affectionate lick and padded over to Harry, standing proudly while he fastened a bright pink collar studded with stones around her neck. He settled it carefully, making sure there wasn't any bunched fur and that it was sitting comfortably.

"Are those real pink diamonds?" Blaise gaped.

Harry nodded. "Of course, she would never accept fake ones. Though I honestly think that the blue one with sapphires suits her better; they match her eyes perfectly." He turned, pulling his own clothes out, setting them on the bed and picking up his toiletries kit. "Am I ok to use the bathroom, or did someone else want to go first?" He looked at his shocked roommates, waiting for a response.

"It's designed for group use, we don't need a schedule or anything," Draco informed him.

Harry nodded, quickly ducking in to attend to his morning ablutions and visit the loo. Now that he thought about it, he realised he hadn't even pissed or cleaned his teeth last night before crawling into the surprisingly comfortable bed. He wrinkled his nose as he relieved himself. Gross. He showered quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist and standing at the sink to clean his teeth and do his hair. He sighed in irritation. The glamour was flawless, even accounting for touch, and he missed his longer hair even though he knew technically it was still there. Getting an idea, he stuck his head out into the dorm.

"Hey Draco, you said something last night about maybe helping with my hair? Is that something we can do now, or do we need potions or something?"

Draco looked up, grinning at the wild mass on top of his best friends head.

"We can do it now. I know a spell to make it grow out a bit. You can use a potion, but you can't control the length as you go. You don't want yours that much longer, so the spell should work fine."

Harry nodded, and Draco walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

The other Slytherins rolled their eyes, knowing that Draco wanted Harry's new look to be some grand reveal.

Draco smiled giddily as he followed Harry to the sinks, turning to lean against it with his arms folded.

"So how do you want to do this? Is your glamour alterable?"

Harry nodded. "I had the Hounds make each part separately, so I can alter bits and pieces as needed, gradually removing them all. I actually have about twenty layered on me at the moment.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Clever. I wouldn't have thought of that."

Harry shrugged, pulling his Holly wand from its holster on his forearm. He wanted to use his real wand, but it had been off lately, making him really work for what he asked it to do. It was almost like it was sulking since he'd bought the Holly wand, even though he knew such a thing was impossible. He was going to go back to Gregorovitch and have him look it over at the first opportunity.

Flicking the wand carefully, Harry dispelled the glamour over his hair, sighing in relief as his longer locks came into view. Brushing them out quickly, he glanced at the blond next to him.

"I could use a trim, if you're willing. Alex usually does it for me, but I've been stuck with Hagrid for a month. I figure you can't butcher it too badly; your sense of pureblood aesthetic won't let you."

Draco lit up, quickly drawing his own wand. Alex had secretly taught him how to do this for just such an occurrence, knowing that Harry liked to be properly groomed at all times. " _Laminae pilum_ ," he carefully incanted. Grabbing Harry's comb, he quickly moved around his friend, drawing his wand over the ends of the dark hair to trim and shape it. When he was finished, it sat just below Harry's shoulders as usual, falling in gentle waves. He stepped back, eyeing it critically with his lips pursed.

"Have you ever considered growing it even longer? It would look really striking if it was long. You could braid it."

Harry glanced over his shoulder before pulling it back into its usual smooth ponytail.

"I tried that. It looks awesome, but it's not practical; gives people too much to grab onto in a fight. If it didn't look completely ridiculous on me I'd just shave my head. Unfortunately I have a head like a cue ball."

Draco snorted, picturing it. "Yeah, you'd look like a boiled egg."

Harry nodded with a grin. "It's not flattering. So this length is a compromise."

"Fair enough," the blond shrugged. "It looks great anyway, and the length is quite common amongst purebloods."

"Shall we? I still need to get dressed."

The two of them exited, Draco making a big show of presenting the 'new and improved' Harry. The other boys cheered and whistled, making a big fuss and pretending to swoon at how handsome the Hero of the Wizarding World was.

Harry rolled his eyes and quickly pulled on his uniform, blessing Draco for 'convincing' him to get the higher quality one. He'd need to be careful until he could have Alex and Marcel add his standard protection runes to it, but paranoia was a way of life for him, he wasn't overly concerned about it.

He cursed when he realised he _still_ couldn't knot his tie properly. Huffing in annoyance, he ignored Warthog's sniggers in his mind, staring into the mirror and beginning again. Honestly, he could learn nearly anything with ease, so _why couldn't he - blasted thing!_

Draco saw him struggling and grinned, batting his hands out of the way and expertly tying a St Andrews Knot. He knew Harry preferred a Café Knot, but it just didn't look right with a striped tie.

"I'll sit down with you later and teach you how to do this yourself. You'll be wearing ties every day, you need to know how." He smirked at his friend, knowing that Harry was silently plotting how to hurt him for that comment.

"Thanks," Harry smiled, teeth gritted and eyes glittering with promised revenge.

Giving a final check in the mirror, Harry grabbed his satchel and followed his dorm mates into the common room.

* * *

As Harry entered the Great Hall with Draco and Warthog at his sides, silence fell across the room. The boy ignored it, carrying on to his seat and sitting down, Draco moving to his right and Warthog jumping up to sit at his left. Crabbe and Goyle settled themselves across from Draco, and Blaise and Theo sat opposite Harry and his familiar.

Harry served himself some fruit salad, toast, and coffee, pretending he didn't notice the frowns from the older students at his choice of drink. Nodding a thank you as Draco passed his timetable to him, he ignored the rolls of parchment being handed over his head and focused on his breakfast.

Warthog purred happily when a plate of raw meat chunks appeared before her, and began eating.

The rest of the Slytherins stared, some in fascination, most in revulsion. To their credit, they controlled it well, and if one hadn't been used to reading almost expressionless faces it would be very difficult to tell.

"Mr Potter!" A stern voice called out, causing Harry to turn around to see Professor McGonagall and a greasy haired gentleman with a hooked nose and sallow skin standing at her shoulder. "What is the meaning of this?"

Harry scrunched his face in confusion, glancing back at his plate. "Uh, breakfast? Did I do it wrong?"

McGonagall's face tightened.

"I was referring to the animal beside you, Mr Potter."

Harry glanced next to him and his confused look deepened.

"Um, that's Draco?"

"The _other_ side, Mr Potter! You cannot have a Mountain Lion at Hogwarts, and you certainly cannot bring it into the Great Hall and let it sit and eat with the students!"

Harry tilted his head, eyes wide and innocent.

"I read all of the Hogwarts Charter and active decrees. It makes no mention of size or breed restriction on familiars or pets, provided they can be adequately controlled by the student bringing them. The Hogwarts Acceptance Letter advises you can bring a cat, owl, or toad. Mountain Lions are part of the Felidae family, therefore, she's a cat. In addition to that, she's my bonded familiar, so I'm therefore able to control her and she's no threat to the local populace unless she or I are being threatened."

McGonagall frowned, and the man beside her looked ready to spit nails as he glared at the boy.

"I will be confirming your claim, and should it prove false, you will need to make arrangements for her immediate removal. However, that does not address her eating in the Great Hall!"

Harry cast a sideways glance at Warthog, noting that she was finished gulping down her meal and was listening intently even as she cleaned between the pads on her paw.

Looking back at McGonagall, he shrugged. "You're a cat animagus, right Professor?"

McGonagall looked slightly surprised. "I am, yes."

Harry pressed on before she could work up some steam again. "So you know what cats are like. I can make sure she doesn't eat the students or school animals, but if she wants to eat with us, nothing is going to dissuade her." He blinked up at her, leaning against Warthogs shoulder and letting her nuzzle the top of his head affectionately. He looked up at the teachers, waiting patiently.

McGonagall studied him for a moment before looking at Warthog.

Harry could see her working through what argument she would use, so he turned up the puppy dog eyes another notch.

The Deputy Headmistress narrowed her eyes in response.

"Those eyes will not work on me, Mr Potter, so don't bother."

The greasy haired man finally stepped forward with a sneer, glaring at the boy like a serpent eyeing its prey.

"Mr Potter, the Deputy Headmistress has given you an edict. You would do well to heed it, lest you find yourself losing House Points before any of your classmates have the chance to earn some."

Warthog eyed the man and drew her lips back slightly, a warning growl rumbling in her chest as she stepped one foot over Harry, forcing him into an awkward ball between her forelegs. His indignant squawk was ignored as the puma stared down the Potions Master.

"Professor, please back up?" Harry called through the fabric bunching in front of his face. "She thinks you're threatening me."

_"Stupid human, trying to intimidate us! As if we would be afraid of a grease soaked string bean that smells like offal and fermented plants! I've eaten Chihuahua's that were more frightening!"_

Harry was glad that his face was thoroughly covered as he choked down a laugh.

The man stared at Warthog challengingly, causing her to draw her lips back further and release a snarl. His thin lips pressed together tightly into a bloodless line.

The entire hall had fallen silent in horrified anticipation, waiting to see how the scene would play out.

"Professor, please?" Harry tried again.

"Professor Snape, perhaps it is better to do as he asks in this instance." Professor McGonagall said quietly, resting a hand lightly on his arm and drawing him back beside her.

"Mr Potter," Snape paused dramatically. "This does not end here."

The teachers swept off, no doubt to complain to the Headmaster, and Warthog relaxed, dipping her head to lick Harry's hair briefly before releasing him from his undignified position.

"Was that really necessary?" Harry asked dryly, fixing his hair and straightening his clothes.

_"No, but it was funny,"_ Warthog replied smugly.

"Oh yes, you're a regular comedian," Harry huffed and pushed his breakfast away.

"What was that?" Blaise asked warily. "You really shouldn't antagonise the teachers. Slytherins get a rough go at the best of times with everyone except Professor Snape, and it looks like even he has it in for you."

Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I don't do well with people threatening what I consider mine. To be honest, I'm not great with authority at the best of times, but I tend to respond the same way they treat me. I'm sorry if I've caused you guys trouble…" He trailed off, twisting his fingers in his lap.

Warthog nuzzled his neck, purring as she breathed warm air against his skin.

_"You're such a fabulist. I love that about you."_

Harry giggled, pushing her away gently and glanced at Draco, who took his cue perfectly.

The blond looked at his new timetable. "We have Charms first, then History of Magic and Potions. Is everyone done? I don't want to be late."

The other Slytherins hastily swallowed their last mouthfuls, before standing and collecting their bags, following the prefect who had agreed to lead them to class.

* * *

Harry settled into his seat, looking around the classroom. According to Draco, the newest batch of students was so small that the Headmaster had decided to combine all the Houses as an experiment. Although it made for a larger class, it would relieve some of the pressure on the Professors schedule. Harry mused that the class was now about the same as an average group in a muggle school, and he really couldn't see what the big deal was about it. Oh well. Hopefully it would make things a little easier for him to network.

He observed the teacher, Professor Flitwick, as the educator scaled a pile of books and looked over the students. Flitwick was a tiny little thing, with neatly combed brown hair that parted down the middle, and a thick moustache that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Vernon, for all that it was better maintained and nowhere near as walrus-like.

The young crime lord tuned back in when he heard his name called, followed by an excited squeak and a series of thuds as Flitwick fell off his books, sending several tumbling down after him. Sighing, Harry felt his esteem for the teacher drop to near negative numbers. Pity, from what the profile Alex had given him stated, the man was a world class Duelling Champion, holding onto his title for several years before choosing not to compete any longer.

Roll call finished, the diminutive professor began covering the very basics of wand work, explaining some of the theory and history of charms, and common examples of spells in that class. He demonstrated the Levitation Charm, which wowed the muggleborn and half-blood students, and had most of the purebloods sagging in boredom.

Harry pasted an attentive expression on his face, absently jotting down notes, and let his mind drift slightly. He was leagues ahead of even his pureblood counterparts, thanks to his ability to learn things quickly, but he had to admit to being a little sketchy on the history and some of the theory. He'd focused primarily on practical skills, and he was regretting that now. It was hell being able to perform everything up to early fifth year and a quite a bit outside the curriculum, but not be able to answer basic questions about what year a specific spell was created and why it worked like it did.

The class finally ended, and not a moment too soon in Harrys opinion. Gathering up his notes and placing them carefully in his bag, he followed his peers out of the room and through several corridors to the History of Magic classroom. Set amphitheatre style, it still had ample room for the entirety of the Hogwarts first year class with room left over. Frowning, Harry speculated on the cause for such a dramatic drop in student numbers, before shaking his head and focusing on the lesson. It wasn't important, and he didn't really care enough to have one of his people look into it.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the Professor being a ghost, before remembering what Alex's file said. Apparently the ghost had been teaching the exact same lecture every day since he died, and even before that fixated heavily on the Goblin Rebellions to the exclusion of other historical events. He watched the bushy haired girl - Granger - industriously taking notes and shook his head. He pulled his textbook out and began reading through it, jotting down his own notes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco doing the same, the other Slytherins following his example. A handful of Ravenclaws frowned at them, before turning back and trying to outdo Granger in the amount of notes they could take. Discretely rolling his eyes, he returned to his own work; revision really, since Mama Andrews had explored history thoroughly during their lessons, using examples from historical events and culture to explain the origins of various nuances of wizarding etiquette, and why things were done the way they were. Satisfied that he would pass this class easily, he used the time to observe the students in the other houses, and try to work out who to approach first.

Weasley was out of course, he couldn't tolerate the brown nosing little brat. Granger might prove useful as far as research and general knowledge, but from what he could see she was buried so far in a book she was oblivious to how obnoxious she was about it. Still, she could prove useful if he put the work into her.

He paused when he got to Longbottom, looking at the tubby boy thoughtfully. The boy came from prime stock, and what happened to his parents was truly a shame. His timid demeanour would make him a target for bullying though, if he wasn't enduring it already. That said, with his bloodlines, he would be an absolute powerhouse in both magical ability and political sway when he reached his majority. It was odd that he was so nervous though. Perhaps he was just that shy, but it didn't seem like something so trivial. He reminded Harry of a kicked dog, not a weak one. He made a mental note to approach the boy as soon as he could arrange, and to have Sergei look into his home life. Longbottom could prove to be a valuable resource in time, and it would be a tragedy to allow him to be wasted.

His attention was drawn to the Patil twins. They were from a pureblood Indian family, their father working as a liaison for an import/export company specialising in antiques and rare objects. The twins had been placed in different houses, one in Gryffindor, the other in Ravenclaw. The Gryffindor twin was giggling with a blonde haired girl that Harry couldn't identify by sight, paying no attention to the teacher, and too much to the boys in the class. Harry placed her low on the list of people to network with, though he decided to keep an eye on her to see if it was a front. The Ravenclaw twin was hard at work, focusing exclusively on the textbook unlike most of her housemates. Apparently sensing his gaze, she glanced up and locked eyes with him, raising a challenging eyebrow. Harry smiled politely and offered a respectful nod before breaking eye contact and continuing to observe the class.

By the time the period ended, he had put together a list of people he would be approaching or investigating further, and had filled a good three feet of parchment with tightly written notes.

Draco shoved his shoulder lightly.

"You doing alright? I know it can be a bit intimidating, especially for a muggle raised." He didn't bother lowering his voice, drawing the attention of several said muggle raised. Ignoring the dirty looks he was getting, he watched Harry expectantly.

"Um, yeah, it is a bit, but I think I'll adjust alright. I got some books on etiquette and stuff, and I figure I'll work through those so I can assimilate better. I think my biggest challenge will be navigating the castle!"

There were some titters of amusement from passing older students, but most of the first years nodded in glum agreement.

"It wouldn't be so bad if we had a map or something, but I've heard some of the classrooms move themselves, and the staircases make mapping out a proper route difficult." Harry sighed.

The other students nodded again, even as they began walking as a group towards the dungeons. Luckily the Slytherins knew the way there, and so they led the herd.

They congregated outside the closed door, automatically separating into their respective houses. Harry watched as Weasley teamed up with two other boys, named Finnigan and Thomas apparently, and started teasing Neville. He'd copied Harry's example in History and just read his text, and combined with his knowledge of Charms theory, it supposedly meant that he was trying to be a Ravenclaw.

Harry could see the timid boy wilting under the 'good natured ribbing' he was getting, and decided it was a good opportunity to lay some groundwork. Discretely, he nudged Draco to draw his attention to the situation.

Draco pouted slightly, but catching the hardening look in Harry's eyes, he lifted his chin and stepped forward.

"What's the matter, Weasley? Didn't you pay attention in your lessons at home? Everyone who grew up in a Wizarding household gets taught this stuff before school. Not to mention that _everyone_ knows that Binns repeats the same handful of lectures over and over, so if you want to actually pass you have to study on your own. With so many older siblings, I'd have thought you knew that."

Granger and many of the Ravenclaws gaped, horrified that such an educational travesty would occur long enough to be an institutionalized quirk.

Weasley's face turned as red as his hair, and he clenched his fists at his side.

"Shut up, Malfoy! Nobody cares what you think!" He turned to give Harry a spiteful look. "And you, Slytherin scum! What happened to not wanting to be an embarrassment to your family? I bet if they were alive they'd be so ashamed they'd disown you!"

Harry looked back blandly. "In order for you to insult me, I would first have to value your opinion; which I don't."

"What do you mean? What kind of teacher doesn't actually teach his subject?" Granger finally asked, distraught.

"A dead one, who wasn't even particularly good to begin with," Draco responded dryly.

"Oi!" Ron shouted. "Don't you talk to her!"

Harry tuned out at that point, confident in Draco's ability to keep up the distraction as long as needed.

Neville was following the exchange with wide eyes.

"Hey, Longbottom, Draco and I were thinking of starting a study group. Would you like to join us?" Harry asked quietly.

"Oh, I-I don't know," the boy stuttered.

Harry smiled comfortingly, still keeping his voice quiet while Draco kept the redhead distracted.

"Your call. You're welcome to join us, and bring anyone else you think would take it seriously. I'm sure everyone in Gryffindor is really nice, but it doesn't seem like the sort of group that will let you study quietly in the common room. I'd like to invite some people from other houses too, but I don't know who yet. If you think of someone, will you let me know?"

Neville looked shocked, but nodded hesitantly.

"Thanks," Harry beamed. "We'll be meeting Wednesdays and Fridays in the library after dinner for now, but we might adjust it as needed in the future. I hope to see you there!"

He rejoined his House, just in time for the classroom door to fly open, and the hook nosed man from that morning to loom over them. Professor Snape, Harry remembered, not missing the venomous look sent his way.

"In," he snarled.

The students filed past him quietly, the vast majority completely cowed by the intimidating man. Harry and the other Slytherins merely nodded respectfully and took their seats.

The door slammed shut behind them, ringing in the silence of the classroom. Even Weasley and his cohorts weren't game enough to talk.

He swept down the aisle and to the front of the class, robes billowing dramatically.

_'I have_ got _to learn how to do that,'_ Harry thought to himself in amusement. He could see the rest of the Slytherins thinking the same.

Snape began with roll call, pausing at Harry's name. He seemed to struggle for a moment, before moving on without comment.

Harry sighed to himself. Snape was going to be a problem, he could see it already. His mind began whirring with plans and contingencies, even as he paid attention; Potions was not the sort of class in which to let your attention wander, even without a teacher like Snape.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death," he paused, cold black eyes sweeping the room disdainfully. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The room remained deathly silent, though Harry could see Granger and several Ravenclaws practically vibrating with the need to prove themselves to the acerbic man.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He ignored Granger's hand shooting up, focusing intently on his chosen target.

Harry scrunched his face, looking like he was thinking hard. "Um… I think I read something about that; it reminded me of a muggle fairy tale. Sleeping Beauty? Oh! The Draft of the Living Death!"

Snape's expression soured.

"Alright, where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Harry felt a surge of irritation. Snape's school yard bully routine was basic enough to be insulting. He knew perfectly well that they were harvested from the stomach of a goat, but a slow calming breath let him regain control of his temper.

"I don't know what that is sir, but I'm guessing it's something important if you're asking about it. Would there be one in the cupboard? Or a first aid kit?"

The teacher sneered. "Technically correct, though not the answer I was looking for. Did you really think you could get away with not opening your textbook before class? Let's try again. What is the difference between monkshood and wolf's bane?"

_'They're the same plant, you overgrown bat,'_ Harry growled mentally. _'But ok, let's let the baby have its rattle.'_

"I don't know, Sir," Harry responded dully.

Granger was practically jumping out of her seat in her efforts to be noticed, her hand waving frantically in the air.

Snape continued ignoring her.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything," he smirked. "Mr Potter was correct; when powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood, you get a draft so powerful it is called the Draft of the Living Death. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat, and is often included in first aid kits due to its use in countering nearly all known poisons." He paused to look mockingly at Harry. "And finally, monkshood and wolf's bane are the same plant, also known as aconite." His gaze swept the room. "Why are you not writing this down?"

There was a flurry of activity as parchment, quills and ink were pulled from bags, students scrambling to get the notes down.

Snape glared around the classroom, sighing in disgust.

The rest of the class progressed much the same way, Snape barking questions at some hapless student and sneering at their lack of knowledge before rattling off the answers and basic related information faster than the children could write.

When the period finally ended, even the Slytherins heaved a sigh of relief, subtly stretching cramped hands. They gathered their belongings, and stood to leave, eager to relax for the rest of the afternoon.

"Mr Potter, stay behind," Snape demanded.

Draco paused, glancing between the professor and Harry.

"Want me to wait for you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'll be ok. I remember the way to the Common Room from here."

The blond nodded reluctantly and left, the rest of the Slytherins falling into place behind him like good little ducklings.

Waiting until the last student had exited, Snape flicked his wand, the door shutting and locking, privacy charms flicking up a moment later.

"I was nearly impressed, Mr Potter." Snape sat in the chair behind his desk, leaning back comfortably and watching his prey. "Your acting was superb, but you gave yourself away much too early."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Sir?"

"For someone who has known of the Wizarding World for only a month - a month spent in an isolated safe house with a mostly uneducated games keeper and basic textbooks for information, I might add - you certainly have a lot of knowledge you shouldn't have encountered yet. Your little display this morning might have fooled the majority of the people in this castle, but I can assure you that it _doesn't fool me_."

Harry thought for a moment, before sighing and relaxing into his usual behaviour. There was nothing for it, he wouldn't get much past the sharp eyed man. He made a mental note to review his file; of all the teachers he had met so far, only Snape would cause him any sort of challenge.

"You're right, and it was foolish of me to forget that you have similar talents to myself. I won't be so arrogant again."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Similar talents?"

Harry smirked bitterly. "You know your magic super brain? Well, I have a magic super brain too. Yay," he gave a lacklustre cheer before sobering. "My adopted father rescued me from the Dursleys. He had me tutored for the last couple of years, but he's the suspicious sort. He speculated that there was some sort of reason for me to be left there with no check-ups or visits from my magical guardian, who we later confirmed was Dumbledore. So in an attempt to see if there was anything to be concerned about, we had the Dursley's pretend I never left."

The boy watched Snape closely. He had a good poker face, but Harry was used to reading Sergei and Mr South; in comparison, the Potions Master was an open book. He clearly hadn't known that Harry had lived with the Dursley's, and something about that knowledge shocked him greatly.

"Interesting," Snape allowed. "What's to stop me from reporting all this to Dumbledore right now? You've taken quite the risk in telling me this."

Harry scoffed. "Hardly. This is all information that's publicly available if you know where to look."

Snape tilted his head slightly in agreement. "I see. So, your," his lip curled, "magic super brain. I know what it takes to have such a thing occur. When did it manifest?"

"When I was very young. Maybe, three-ish? A little earlier? I know it was fully developed by the time I was five." Harry shrugged.

"Eidetic memory?"

"Sadly, no. While I do have excellent retention, I'm not that good. I process patterns in information, and absorb practical skills in particular. Reading or watching doesn't matter, I can apply it almost instantly, and it becomes muscle memory within a handful of repetitions."

Snape watched him thoughtfully. "You knew all the answers to my questions."

Harry couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes, though I'm inclined to quibble over your answer to the final one about aconite. _Aconitum_ , also known as aconite, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, mousebane, women's bane, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons, or blue rocket, is a genus of over 250 species of flowering plants belonging to the family Ranunculaceae. Given that those common names are often given to any variety of Aconitum, you really should have been more specific." He paused, crossing an arm across his chest and tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips. "That said, that particular subtlety would have gone over the head of the majority of the students, so I suppose I can't fault you for it; though I do believe your oversimplification will cause problems later on." Harry paused, looking thoughtful. "I did mean to ask, is there a reason why you don't have a book on basic ingredient preparation and terminology included in the required texts? I personally found _The Beginner Potioneer's Lexicon_ by Arturious Pidge an excellent source when I was just starting out."

Snape raised a condescending eyebrow.

"By the time a student reaches my classroom, they already know the relevant terms. Why would I waste everyone's time and money by demanding they acquire a text they don't need?"

Harry blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing.

"With all due respect, Sir, a pureblood and possibly a studious half-blood might be familiar with the relevant terms, but most muggle raised wouldn't have a clue. Unless their parents had them attend cooking classes, it's unlikely they would know the difference between many of the different methods required. Slicing and julienne, for example. I did the bulk of the cooking for the Dursley's between ages four and nine, and even I didn't really know the difference."

"And why would you care if a few students don't take the time to source extra material if they don't know it?"

"Because I'd rather not have to deal with cauldrons exploding all over me when I'm trying to work? Not to mention that their accidents could contaminate my own work, which is completely unacceptable." Harry's lip curled in disgust at the thought. "Morons like Weasley probably wouldn't put the effort in even if you did recommend it, but there are a few like Longbottom that want to do well and will put the work in, they just lack the confidence to ask for clarification. Speaking of Longbottom, what do you know about him? Any idea what his home life is like?"

Snape narrowed his eyes, incensed. "Mr Potter, do not make the mistake of thinking I am one of your fans that will fall at your feet and grant you anything you wish. We are not friends, our similar mental abilities do not make us comrades of any sort, and frankly I find your arrogance repugnant. Not only did you have the gall to question my teaching after only one day, but you demand private information on another student! If you wish to know about Longbottoms private life you will have to ask him yourself. Even if I was permitted to do so, I would not give you access to such potentially sensitive data. Now get out before I assign you detention."

Harry blanked his face, nodding. "You're right; I apologise. If you'll excuse me, I have homework to do."

Turning on his heel, he strode through the door, pausing only long enough for Snape to dismiss the charms and unlock it. As he headed towards the Common Room, he couldn't help but curse himself soundly for making so many mistakes over the course of the day. If Snape could see through him, it was entirely possible that Dumbledore or one of his spies might too.

* * *

Harry lay in bed, Warthog pressed tightly against him as he cuddled up to her. He'd closed his curtains and cast silencing charms to keep his conversation with his familiar private, since it was the closest he could get to being alone with her at the moment. Despite her snarky attitude and general mischievousness, he knew that she was possibly the only creature in existence that he could trust to never betray him, and she wouldn't judge him for relaxing enough to act like the child he actually was.

"So, how was _your_ day?" He asked quietly, basking in her warmth and the vibrations from her purring as he draped an arm over her shoulders, burying his face into the fur near her throat.

_"Interesting. I found a lot of hidden passages that I'll show you, and I made friends with the Caretaker's kneazle, Mrs Norris."_ Warthog said, grooming his hair for a moment before ceasing at his irritable grunt. Sighing, she rested her head on top of his, staring blankly at the green curtains surrounding them. _"There are a lot of animals here, and animals that aren't really animals."_

"You mean Animagi? Yeah, I'd imagine there would be a few. I know Professor McGonagall is a tabby cat with markings around her eyes that look like spectacles." He lay quietly in the dark for a few moments. "I'm surprised you made friends with Mrs Norris, though. You usually hate other animals, kneazles especially."

The puma huffed slightly, but didn't disagree. _"I know. But she's just as bitchy as I am, and she makes me laugh; her commentary on the people in the castle is quite witty."_

Harry smiled, fingers flexing slowly as he patted his companion.

"I'm glad you made a friend here. I was worried you'd be lonely since I can't bring you everywhere with me."

_"I'm fine, Cub; don't worry about me. What about you? You were quite distressed when you returned from classes. Did something happen?"_ She nuzzled him, sensing his need for comfort and a little mothering. In all honesty, she liked looking after her human cub, so it was no hardship for her.

The boy winced, pressing closer. "You could say that. I fucked up, Warthog. Badly. Snape made me, and I had to answer some awkward questions before I managed to distract him, but he'll be watching me really closely from now on. I need to figure out a way to win him over or everything I'm working for will be ruined. I," he paused, his throat thick. "I'm not sure what to do. He's not like everyone else. He's like me, but he has a lot more experience than I do." Harry was trembling, clutching at the thick fur under his fingers.

_"Shhhh, easy, Cub; just sleep on it, you'll figure it out. You don't have to do this alone. I'm here, and if it's too big of a problem for us to handle, we can contact Alex and Sergei. Which reminds me, I found a couple of tunnels that I think lead out of the school. We should check them out so you can sneak out and oversee your empire. But for now, you should sleep. You may be a big criminal badass, but you're still only eleven and you've had a big day."_

Harry took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax. Warthog was right, there was no point stressing himself about it right now. As he let her purring lull him to sleep, he couldn't help but be grateful to the big cat. With her around, he felt safer, and the loneliness that had plagued him since his birthday didn't seem so overwhelming. That said, he was looking forward to seeing his team again; they would no doubt have a lot to discuss, what with him being away for the last month, but even that could wait until he'd seen his boy and spent some time with him.

His last thought before he fell asleep was how much he missed his Connor, and his stupid auburn corkscrew hair.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It only took Harry three days to confirm that at least two of the tunnels Warthog found led outside the school wards. There were two others that Alex had discovered, but one was collapsed, and the other had been booby trapped by the school caretaker, Mr Filch. The traps were easy enough to circumvent, but dealing with the constant physical monitoring that went along with it was more trouble than he could be bothered with for a regular route.

Harry nudged Draco, drawing the blonds attention from their homework. The quiet hum of murmuring from the other students scattered around the common room provided the perfect cover for their conversation.

"I'll be out for a few hours tonight. I'll need you monitoring things here while I'm gone."

Draco's eyes widened before he caught himself, nodding slightly.

"What do I need to do?"

"Not much. I'll give you a Pepper Up potion to help you stay awake, and a charm to alert me if there's something here that needs my urgent attention, like a teacher checking beds or the castle burning down." Harry grinned slightly. "I'll be back before dawn. If I'm not, then contact your father. I've left instructions with him for if the Hounds are unavailable."

Draco nodded again, returning to his homework. Excitement tightened his gut, and he found himself struggling to focus on the final touches of his essay. This was the first real task Harry had set him, as it related to Vahan. There had been the set up for the train and a few other minor things, but they weren't the same thing. This was a _task_.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. It was simple, yes, but being lookout was important, right? If he screwed up he could really make things hard for Harry, or worse get him caught and mess up one of Vahan's plans. His spine crawled at the thought of upsetting the mysterious figurehead that his best friend served. If his father was to be believed, Harry was Vahan's right hand man, and the only person with direct regular contact, so whatever the dark haired boy was up to tonight was probably vitally important.

* * *

Harry breathed the night air, Warthog at his side as he looked up at his Fortress. Potter Manor loomed dramatically in the dark; the building surprisingly menacing in the gloom. The boy found himself smiling fondly at the sight, and relaxing for the first time in a month.

Getting out of the castle had been ridiculously easy, something he was making note of should a quick exit be needed in the future. Warthog's friendship with Mrs Norris was beneficial too, in that the little kneazle had shown the larger cat how to freeze the Whomping Willow so they could use the tunnel leading to a ramshackle building known locally as the Shrieking Shack. Apparently the place was severely haunted, though judging by the claw and teeth marks in the wood it was more likely to be some sort of large animal using it regularly and making a ruckus.

"Are you ready?" He asked his familiar.

_"Yes. I want to see Shot."_

Harry smiled and stepped forward, the wards on the gate recognising him and swinging open silently. He giggled as Alpha ran up, scenting him carefully before falling in beside him to escort them to the front door.

"How's my big boy?" Harry cooed, rubbing Alpha roughly on the neck.

Alpha's purr rumbled deeply in his chest as he lowered his head so Harry could scratch him behind the ear.

"That good, huh?" Harry chuckled, obligingly scratching the itch. He really did love his Kahlidah.

The front doors swung open for him even as Tippy bowed low.

Harry nodded hello to the little elf, smiling when he squeaked and blushed an odd purple colour.

"How are you, Tippy?" He asked.

"Tippy is well, Master," the elf squeaked back, shutting the door quietly and waiting attentively for orders.

"Last I saw you, you'd injured yourself when you helped Lucky with the horses. Are you all healed up now? Do you need anything?"

Tippy trembled, his eyes growing watery.

"Oh, Master is too kind! Tippy is fully healed, Sir!"

Harry smiled kindly, lightly resting a hand on Tippy's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're ok. Try not to get kicked and trampled next time, yes?"

Tippy nodded vigorously before popping off back to the kitchens, eyes shining happily.

Harry turned, seeing Jinky and Brix waiting patiently for his attention. Grinning, he allowed his personal elf to remove his light jacket, straightening his clothing for him in the process.

"Jinky?"

"Yes Master?" The elf replied calmly.

"I'll be meeting with the Hounds later. I want you to report on what the elves at the Haunt and Nest have observed, as well as anything else you think relevant. You have two hours to collect what information you need."

Jinky nodded and popped away, eager to attend to his task.

"Brix?"

The elderly elf perked his ears slightly to show his attention, but otherwise didn't move, retaining his dignified pose.

Harry mused that the elf reminded him of an elderly butler indulgently awaiting a command from his young master.

"Do you have anything to report for here, or is everything going smoothly with the golem?" Harry walked towards the dining room, Warthog and Brix walking beside him.

"No, Master. Your father has been managing the estate with no difficulties, and no situations have arisen that require your personal attention."

Harry nodded.

"Good. Anything you wanted to discuss?"

"No, Master. Everything is running smoothly, and now that the estate is under proper management again, output has increased by approximately 200% over the past two years."

"Good. Keep up the good work, Brix." Harry smiled at the elf, who recognised the dismissal and popped away.

Harry took a deep breath and pushed open the dining room doors sharply, striding in with a smug look.

"Hello boys, how's business?" He called cheerfully, before slowing to a stop, blushing.

Swit looked up from where she was polishing the dining table, the room completely devoid of any other life.

"Sir?"

"Er, never mind," Harry mumbled, mortified. So much for his dramatic entry. He turned to Warthog. "You knew they weren't in there, didn't you."

Warthog watched him from where she sat by the door, bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

_"Of course. But you were so determined, who was I to stop you?"_

Harry glared slightly, and the cat huffed, her approximation of a laugh.

_"I think they're in the library. Connor is probably in bed though, since it's nearly midnight."_

Harry nodded and swiftly headed upstairs, padding quietly down the halls and slipping into the library without drawing the attention of his men. He was pleased to note that Shot was sitting with Alex and Sergei, a sketch book open in front of her and several texts scattered around on the desk for reference. Alex and Sergei were frowning in concentration over a game of Go. Harry smiled and lowered himself into a chair, waiting to see how long it would take before they noticed him.

"How do you think the boss is coping at Hogwarts?" Shot asked, sketching a new design into her book.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alex answered. "He's probably quite frustrated, but he won't let that crack his chosen character."

Sergei grunted and lay a black stone on the board.

"I'd be surprised if he isn't imagining how to kill every one of those fuckers on a daily basis. Poor bastard's probably tearing his hair out by now."

"Yeah, it's been a pain in the arse," Harry agreed with a nod. He cracked up laughing when the other three leapt to their feet, drawing wands and weapons on him. "Oh, put those away." He smiled cheerily. "You especially, Shot. Seriously, who's bright idea was it to give you a gun?"

_"So much for your dramatic entrance; though I think I liked this version better."_

Harry glared slightly at his familiar and refused to acknowledge the light blush on his cheeks.

Alex and Sergei lowered their weapons sheepishly, tucking them away and sitting back down. Shot just grinned and put the gun on the table, circling around to wrap Harry in an awkward hug.

The boy cringed, prying her off him. "Please don't do that again, you know I dislike being touched."

Shot grinned impishly, and Harry sighed in resignation.

"How did you get out of the school, Sir?" Alex asked curiously. "I'd have thought it would take you longer to work out a way."

Harry leaned back, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and dropping his head onto his fist.

"Funny thing. Turns out castles have these things called _doors._ "

Sergei's lips twitched slightly at the abashed look on his best friend's face.

"One of the secret tunnels?" The Russian asked.

Harry shrugged, changing the subject. "So, now that you know I'm here, you have two hours to prepare anything you need to report, and get Marcel and Alice here for the same. I don't have a lot of time tonight, so make sure that everyone knows to keep it as brief as possible. I'll take any files I need to personally review back with me."

Shot frowned. "Two hours? We keep everything ready to report at a moment's notice, you insist on it. Why the extra time?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"None of your business."

He stood, leaving the room and heading up another flight of stairs and into the family wing.

Coming to a stop at the room opposite his own, he knocked quietly and cracked the door open.

The room was painted with a blue sky, white fluffy clouds drifting across it, and the walls covered with a mural of rolling meadows dotted liberally with wildflowers. The floor was covered in a soft thick grass green carpet, patterned rugs scattered around like forgotten picnic blankets.

A large four poster bed stood in the middle of the far wall, shaped from a single piece of wood and looking like it had been grown like that instead of carved. A mass of auburn curls poked messily from underneath the blankets, and Harry grinned at the sight.

Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on the tiny lump under the blankets.

"Connor?" He shook the lump lightly.

The blankets stirred slightly, and a sleepy hazel eye peeked out.

"Mm?" The little boy mumbled, a tiny fist appearing and rubbing at his eye. A moment passed before what he was seeing actually settled in his mind. Sitting bolt upright, he threw himself at the older boy. "Harry!" He wrapped his spindly arms around the older boy, practically sprawled in his lap. "You're here!"

Harry chuckled, hugging Connor back tightly. "Indeed I am," he smiled, burying his nose in the wayward curls.

They sat that way for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness.

Finally, Harry stirred. "I hope you don't mind me waking you up, but I can't stay long. I wanted to spend some time with you before I had to deal with business."

Connor beamed. "I don't mind! I've missed you heaps!" He wiggled out of bed, dragging Harry into the playroom attached to his bedroom.

Harry sat at the small children's table and listened happily to his boy chattering away about anything and everything as he flitted around the room gathering various objects to show to his hero.

He was very pleased when the first thing Connor showed him was a workbook he'd been practicing in outside of his lessons. The boy had been practicing writing with a quill, making notes of whatever caught his interest in the textbooks he poured through at every opportunity. In the time since Harry had disappeared with Hagrid, he'd managed to fill three of the books, and his penmanship showed clear improvement.

"This is excellent," Harry commented, flicking through the pages and reading a few lines here and there. "Your penmanship is getting better, and your notes are very good as well. Has Alex started teaching you how to put reports and essays together yet?"

Connor nodded eagerly. "Yeah, he has! He said that with how hard I work, I'm ahead of where I would be if I went to a normal school. He says I'm about halfway through the next years' work!"

Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed. "I'm proud of you. You work very hard, and I'm glad to see it's paying off. Are you taking time to play? It's important you don't spend all your time in lessons and training."

The little boy nodded seriously. "Yeah, Alex makes sure I do. I've been exploring the grounds with Snake and Swit, and Alex has been teaching me how to ride the horses. Sergei takes me fishing and bird watching, and Shot takes me to the muggle park a couple of times a week so I can play with other kids. And last week, we all went to the movies! Sergei bought me popcorn and a fruit juice, and Alex let me have some of his chocolates! Shot bought heaps of lollies and ate them _all_ , and Alex said she would get a stomach ache from eating so much sugar all at once. She said she wouldn't, but I saw her drinking a stomach soother later than night when Alex wasn't looking." He paused, panting slightly, and Harry chuckled, pulling him closer for another hug.

"What else have you been doing? Are you still enjoying your piano lessons?"

Connor lit up, beaming up at Harry.

"I love it! I still practice every day for an hour. I haven't missed a single day! It makes me really happy when I play. Do you have anything that makes you really happy when you do it?"

Harry smiled. "I do, but it's a secret. Nobody else knows I like to do it to relax. Would you like to see?"

Connor nodded eagerly.

Shifting the boy in his lap so that he could reach his cuff, Harry tapped a bead, pulling out a small trunk which he placed on the floor and expanded by tapping the design on the lid with a finger. He opened it slowly, smiling at the awestruck look on the child's face.

"Do we go inside?"

Harry nodded, standing and leading the boy down the narrow stairs and into a magically expanded room filled with every kind of medium an artist could desire. An easel stood in the middle of the studio, a half finished painting resting on it, and an angled table against the wall sporting a beautiful landscape drawing.

Connor stood in the middle of the room, jaw dropped and turning in slow circles to take it all in.

"You do art?"

Harry nodded. "Just like you do piano. It makes me happy. Would you like to see my favourite piece?"

The little boy nodded, his eyes still wide.

Harry moved to a cupboard that had expanded racks inside to house all his completed works. Sliding the rack along until he found the one he was looking for, he pulled out a black and white sketch that was roughly the size of a large photograph. Harry sat on a chair, letting Connor lean against his side.

"Is that, us?" Connor gasped in awe. He reached out and gently touched the edge, careful not to brush against the picture itself.

It was an ink sketch that showed Harry and Connor sitting together at a table, heads together as they leaned over a thick book. Harry was pointing at something, and Connor was smiling widely in excitement. They looked happy together, relaxed and just enjoying each other's company on a lazy afternoon. The picture was so detailed that at a casual glance it could be mistaken for a photograph.

"It is. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's really good!" Connor breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from it.

Harry chuckled, and gently pushed the boy away so he could stand. He opened a door, walking into the previously concealed store room, and came back with a plain black and silver frame. Carefully putting the sketch behind the glass, he grabbed a cloth and polished off the fingerprints.

"Here you go." He handed it to Connor. "Where would you like to put it?"

Connor clasped it carefully to his chest, staring up at Harry with adoration. "Can I put it on my bedside table so I can see it every morning when I wake up?"

Harry smiled and ruffled the wild corkscrews that sprang in every direction thanks to a major case of bedhead. "Sure you can. I'd be honoured."

Making their way back up the stairs, Connor went to place the picture lovingly on his bedside, and Harry packed away the trunk into his cuff again. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry was pleased to see they still had about an hour before his meeting.

"So, what would you like to do now?" Harry asked when Connor came back.

Connor yawned widely, rubbing his eyes with a tired fist.

"We could play a game?"

Harry looked at the sleepy child in the oversized pyjamas he insisted on, and smiled. He really was adorable.

"How about we sit on your bed and I'll read to you?"

Connor smiled, before yawning again.

"That sounds good. Can we read the Selby book again?"

Harry cocked his head. "That's the one about the talking dog, right?"

Connor nodded. "Yeah. You read it to the Nestlings when we were still staying there, and I really liked it. It was funny."

Smiling, Harry agreed and went to the shelf, looking for the book while Connor settled himself in bed. Finding it, he joined the boy, leaning back against the pillows. Opening the book, he began reading.

* * *

Harry slipped silently from Connor's room, closing the door behind him gingerly so as not to wake the sleeping boy.

 _"How is he?"_ Warthog asked, materializing out of the shadows in the hall.

"He's grown a bit, and he's pushing himself hard with his lessons, but he seems happy. I think he'll adjust, but I want to visit regularly. I don't want to miss seeing him grow up."

Warthog grunted in agreement, nudging Harry's hand comfortingly.

_"He's lucky to have you."_

Harry patted her head softly. "Thank you."

They continued in silence, descending the stairs and entering Harry's office. He dropped gracefully into his Extremely Comfortable Chair, and looked over the assembled people across his desk.

"So, what do you have for me?" He asked as he dropped a barley sugar into his mouth.

Alice shifted, drawing everyone's attention.

"I'm sorry, I know that I should really be going last, but Elise is a bit sick, and Mark keeps getting out of bed to try to look after her. I need to get back as quickly as possible."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Alright. What do you have for me?"

Alice handed over a folder full of reports, then settled back in her chair and glanced down at the notepad in her lap.

"All the Nestlings have been progressing well. Elise is doing fantastically well in her studies. She isn't so keen on the more academic subjects, preferring things with a more tactile element, but she's applying herself to everything we throw at her regardless of her personal opinions. She shows a talent towards explosive devices, and I think given time will probably take to infiltration as well. She's approached me about learning the sort of things I was taught before I came to you, so I would like to recommend enrolling her in a Finishing course within the next year.

"Your theory about putting Mark in charge of his own team was dead on the money. He's taken it very seriously, and settled down a lot. My only concern is that he may come to take too much responsibility on his shoulders. He doesn't just lead his team for missions, but also fusses over them on a personal level during off time. It's lead to a close knit team that works very well together, but they're so close that changing the team around or entering someone else into it could become problematic in the near future. He's almost… possessive of them."

Harry shifted his lolly to the other side of his mouth thoughtfully.

"Alright. I'll review your notes on him and give it some thought. In the meantime do nothing different. You mentioned he's hovering over Elise?" He continued at Alice's nod. "Offer Finishing courses to all of the Nestlings, but I want Elise and Mark to definitely take it. It won't be required of the others, but it will be strongly encouraged. Any other issues?"

"Sophie and Brian are still inseparable, and I think they're ready to take on more jobs as a two person team. They show aptitude for theft, and the more complicated the security on the target, they more they enjoy it. Given their short stature and slim build, they excel at getting in and out of tight spaces; I recommend gymnastics and dance classes for them to help their flexibility. From what I've seen, they could easily become good enough to make a name for themselves on stage with the right sort of training."

Harry nodded. "Do it, but don't push the career option just yet. Mention it as a possibility and leave it at that for now. What about Lizzie?"

Alice's face fell slightly.

"Lizzie is… a conundrum. She'll interact with the other children if invited, but seems to prefer to be alone. She definitely prefers to work alone on a job too, but if put in a team will actively avoid any form of leadership position. She's quiet, and efficient, but I really don't know what to make of her. Emotionally she seems calm, but it's more of a shutdown, rather than genuine calm. They only time she seems genuinely happy is when she's out in the garage. She convinced Greg to teach her mechanics, and she spends every free minute tinkering with a wreck of a car Greg got her to practice on. I'm at a loss for how to reach her, though if I remember correctly she always responded well to you."

"Hmm," Harry pursed his lips as he processed that. "Alright, leave it with me. I think I have an idea or two. Anything else?"

The redhead glanced at her notepad again.

"I've included a budget review, and projected costs for the next three, six, and twelve months."

Harry opened the folder she'd given him, confirming that it was in there.

"I see. I'll review it and get back to you; thank you. Feel free to head home. I'll look over these and let you know what I think. I'll try to arrange a visit in the next few weeks too, but don't say anything to the Nestlings just yet. I'll make it a surprise."

Alice nodded and stood, bidding everyone else a quick farewell as she exited.

"Marcel? Do you need to hurry back as well?"

The Healer smiled.

"No, I'm in no rush tonight. My three are all perfectly healthy and tucked in bed. Soot and Puff are keeping an eye on them while I'm here."

"Do you have much to report?" Harry reached for another barley sugar, but changed his mind and summoned Jinky instead, requesting a platter for everyone to share. He felt a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought to do so while Alice was still present, but quickly shrugged it off. It didn't matter.

"Not much," the Italian replied, handing over his own - much thinner - folder. "Probably my biggest issue is needing another hand or two around the place. The elves manage everything in the house well, but outside it, juggling the needs of three kids is a bit challenging."

Harry frowned as he glanced through the file.

"All three should be getting their Hogwarts letters next year," he paused, glancing at the Hounds. "Do we have any more potentials for either house?"

Alex shook his head.

"Nobody specific, but it's possible that we'll find more unexpectedly."

"Alright," Harry decided. "I don't want to bring in someone else to the Haunt when they won't be needed very often after a year. It's more of a security risk than I'm willing to accept. If I had the Goblins create another golem or two, would that suffice? If you don't need them during the year when the Ghosts are at school you can stuff them in a cupboard, or hire them out to do gardening for someone, I don't really care."

Marcel perked up.

"That would be perfect, actually. Though if you don't mind, I'll keep the fact that they're golems secret from the Ghosts."

Harry waved a hand dismissively and nibbled on a grape from the platter Jinky put on the desk.

"Whatever you think is best. Alex, arrange two golems if you please. Confirm the knowledge and personality requirements with Marcel, and make sure I can link to them. Actually, see if Alice wants some as well. Don't go overboard, but approve them if they're needed."

"Yes, Sir," Alex jotted a note in his ever present book.

"Oh, Marcel, is Isabella still insisting on being called Tink?" Harry asked curiously.

The Healer grinned, chewing a tiny sandwich. Swallowing, he discretely licked his teeth.

"Yes. She won't answer to anything else. Though for teachers she will answer to Miss Grey, grudgingly."

"Any idea why?" Harry picked out a cracker and piece of salami, adding some cheese as an afterthought.

Marcel shrugged.

"No idea. Do you want me to address it? She seems well adjusted in every other area. She even asked about taking classical ballet lessons the other day. I thought I'd leave that decision to you since she would only have a year before she'd have to leave for Hogwarts."

"Ok. I'll see what I can arrange. Have you included a budget review as well?"

"Yes, though the Haunt is pretty well set. We don't need an increase or anything, even if all three kids start taking lessons. The infirmary is set, and there's enough money in the budget for any necessary supplies."

"Good. Have you had a chance to experiment with Snake's venom at all?"

Marcel lit up with excitement. "Oh, yes! It's fascinating, really! I was curious about why Snake claimed to be second to only a Basilisk when it's venom was so deadly, and I think I finally have an answer. Excluding immediate treatment with Phoenix tears, a Basilisk bite will kill without fail in under two minutes. Snake's venom, however, is changeable in its toxicity levels. I mean, even at its lowest point it would still kill you, it's just a question of how fast and in which way. It's also treatable if you get to it time with a suitable antivenin - which can take a bit of guesswork since you'd have to match symptoms and work out which regular venom is the closest match. Watching the changes week to week is really quite something!"

Harry sighed and ate another grape.

"Ok, great. Did you want to stick around or go play while the rest of us talk business?"

Marcel gasped, a hand fluttering to his chest dramatically. "And miss hearing about what new toys Shot has come up with?"

Harry snorted. "Fine, though your refusal to leave the food platter is not well concealed."

The Italian shrugged and smiled charmingly, grabbing a few slices of apple.

"Alright, Sergei?"

The massive Russian grunted, tossing his reports onto the desk for Harry.

"Nothing new. Everything is on track, and we haven't had any issues with supply or distribution. Your reputation is growing as well, and we're getting more jobs in. Nothing major yet aside from Flamel's job, it's mostly been low to mid-level thefts and hits."

"Fine; keep up the good work. Are you having any trouble managing everything on the wizarding side of things?"

Sergei shook his head.

"No, no problem. I've been collaborating with Alex to keep everything running smoothly between the muggle and magical; though I have to say that I'm glad you divided the business the way you did. It's working very well, and nobody has noted your absence."

Harry nodded distractedly as he skimmed the financial reports.

"Good. Alex?"

"Profit is up. We've had to dispose of three dealers, making a suitable example of course, but their replacements have been reliable so far. Adama is being fed a few false leads to keep him chasing his tail, and he doesn't seem to have uncovered anything we don't want him too. We've identified three other children's brothels and fed the information to the police; all three have been raided and the children rescued. We're monitoring the cases, and keeping a weather eye on the kids. So far, everything seems fine. We've been approached for a few jobs, mainly theft and a bit of smuggling, and they've all gone off without a hitch. We had a hit go to hell and lost Sven and Ian, but Leon pulled it out of his arse and got the job done, and dealt with the collateral as well. Honestly, I think Leon needs a promotion of some sort, and probably a team of his own."

Harry grabbed the offered file and added it to the pile.

"Fine. Talk to him, see what he wants to do. If he wants his own team, let him put it together himself. If he wants someone from outside the organisation, he needs to recruit them himself, but I want one of you to vet them as usual."

Alex nodded and made a note.

The boy sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Shot? Got something good for me?"

The slender girl perked up, flipping open her design book and grabbing a bag from the floor next to her.

"Actually, I do! All sorts of goodies for you, and a few things for Warthog, if she approves!" She beamed at her boss, placing the bag on the desk and digging into it. "Ok, so the first thing is something I've been working on for a while, with Marcel's help." She nodded to Marcel who blew her a kiss, then went back to his sandwiches. She placed a cylindrical object on the desk, the size of a box of mints. "This," she proclaimed dramatically, "is my liquid grenade! As you can see, it requires activation, before that it's completely inert. I designed it to be able to be used one handed, just in case, but it's impossible to set off by accident. To prime it, you need to lift this little cap on the lid here," she demonstrated, "and press the button underneath. This drops a tablet of the activating ingredients into the potion. Once the button is pressed, there's no going back or way to disarm it. Besides that it will function like a normal grenade, minus the shrapnel. Big boom, lots of gore, bit of fire. Fun times! It also dissipates without residue, so there's nothing to trace afterwards. Cool, huh? And best of all, all the ingredients are really cheap to procure, and the potion itself is really easy to make once you know the trick to it. The hardest part is the activation pellet. The ingredients have to be dried a special way, ground down and compressed... and, you don't care about that right now. Moving on!" She dove back into the bag.

"This is a prototype for a mobile phone that should work around high concentrations of magic. It's very basic, but I thought you might like it for emergencies or something. I managed to make it smaller than anything currently on the market, but I think I can get it smaller over time. I might be able to build in more features eventually as well, depending on how it all develops. I've heard rumours of some big tech companies working on new phone models that might do what we need."

Harry took the phone, fiddling with it make sure he understood how it worked.

"Excellent, Shot. And I'll take a few of those grenades with me tonight as well, if you have them ready?"

Shot nodded with a grin.

"Thought you might. I have about a dozen in the bag, and two of the phones. I thought you might want one for Draco."

Harry smiled at her.

"Yes, thank you. Do the grenades have a shelf life?"

Shot shook her head.

"No. The mixture's stable, and once each device is capped it's completely sealed. You could leave these babies on the shelf for a hundred years and they'd still be ready to use at a moment's notice."

"Excellent. Put them into the regular production schedule. I want a stockpile. Once the phones have been properly tested we'll see about that too." He thought for a few moments, idly turning the phone over between his fingers. "Shot, investigate the companies producing the best and most innovative phones. If they're sound, pass the details onto Alex. I want shares in the top five through my shell companies. Alex, look into manufacture, see if it's worth the investment. If so, we'll see about getting into the game. If we can get the contracts for that, it might prove lucrative not to mention convenient for producing our own modified versions."

Alex and Shot nodded, and added notes to their ever growing lists.

 _"Forget all that,"_ Warthog huffed. _"Ask her what she has for_ me _!"_

Harry glanced at his familiar, amused.

"Shot, Warthog is impatient to see what you have for her."

"Oh! Alright!" Shot sat back in her chair, angling her notebook so the puma could see.

"Alright, missy! Remember we talked about some form of portkey arrangement for you, and possibly some form of armour? Well, I think I have the solution. I originally thought some sort of cuff around the base of your tail, similar to what we all use, but the problem with that is it's too easy to come off, and I suspect it would be horribly uncomfortable for you. Am I right?"

Warthog dipped her head in agreement, snarling slightly at the thought.

"Right. So, a hidden collar would be out for similar reasons. Not to mention that it's the first things someone would look for if they managed to get hold of you. Cuffs around your legs would in all likelihood restrict your movement, and again, would be very uncomfortable." Shot sighed, running a hand through her hair before flipping to another page in her sketch book.

"So, I know you said you didn't want anything beneath the skin if you could avoid it, but I really think that's the way we need to go. I designed this, and hoped you might consider it?"

Shot pulled out a small pouch from her cuff, putting a drop of blood on the drawstring before it would open. She tipped it, spilling a series of beautiful but odd looking jewels into her palm.

"These are something I made specifically with you in mind. To touch, they're just like a normal jewel, but they're actually a form of liquid. Sort of a suspension matrix? It's a bit hard to explain, and it's beside the point at the moment. Basically, this large smoky one contains your armour, if you agree. It would be set into your sternum at the highest point. It needs to be visible above the skin, so really it would be the setting attached to the sternum and the jewel imbedded into your skin. Once it's attached, it'll attune itself to you and Harry, leeching a small amount of the magic from your bond to sustain itself. If either of you will it, it releases the potion which forms the armour around you." Shot looked at the cat eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Now the armour really is a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. It's a semi solid reactive mist! It surrounds you like… smoke or shadows? And because it's attracted to the magic it's attuned to, it'll follow you when you move, and because it's a mist it'll trail slightly and make it harder to pinpoint your outline."

Harry frowned.

"That sounds like excellent camouflage, but how does that translate to armour?"

Shot actually bounced in her seat, earning her a raised eyebrow.

"That's the best bit! It's just mist, so completely unrestrictive and weightless, _unless it's hit with something_! If there's an impact against it from something that doesn't contain the same magic as your bond, it solidifies in that section and repels the magic or impact! How wicked is that?" She beamed, glancing around for approval.

Harry was stunned, and judging be the look on the Hounds faces, they were as well. Shot had clearly kept it a secret from everyone except Marcel, who was still steadily raiding the constantly refilling food platter.

"Are you serious?" Harry finally coughed. "What are its limits? Will it deflect spells or only solid impacts? What about something like a bullet or arrow?"

Shot looked smug, and took a mouthful of whatever concoction she'd requested from the elves.

Harry was pleased to see that her manners had improved immensely under Alex's tutelage.

"It'll deflect any solid impact. You could stand in front of a machine gun and not feel it. You still have to deal with the inertia of course, but the impact itself won't hurt you. As for spells, it'll repel everything except the Unforgivables, as near as I can tell. I haven't tested it against the really _really_ Dark Arts, but theoretically as long as you have the magic to power it, it will stand up to pretty much anything. Hell, you could lay down on one of the liquid grenades and it would take the damage. You'd probably get an impromptu flying lesson, but you wouldn't take damage from the explosion."

The boy could feel himself practically salivating at the potential.

"And you say that the person it's bonded to controls if it activates or not?"

Shot nodded again, the smug look never shifting.

"Yep. And you can even shape parts of it if you want, since it's really an extension of your magic. So you could shape a particular helmet for example. I haven't found a way to vary the colour without making it useless, but I figure that's a small concession since you can shape it. I won't lie, the ingredients are fucking hard to come by, and I completely tapped out all my contacts to get enough for this."

"How many were you able to make?" Harry asked.

"Four. I wouldn't be able to use it anyway, since my magic is screwy, but once I realised what I had I knew that you'd want one, and if possible you'd want the Hounds to have one as well."

"Excellent. Warthog, will you tolerate it?"

_"Of course. That's too good to pass up, not to mention the jewels look pretty. Ask if it can be hidden somehow. It wouldn't do to have someone get curious."_

"Good point. Shot, can it be concealed at all?"

"Oh yeah. Magical concealment won't affect it at all. I figured you'd just charm it so that it can only be seen by people who already know about it, since that would be less noticeable than a glamour."

Harry smiled widely, and actually rubbed his hands together with glee.

"Alex? Sergei? Are you willing?"

Both men nodded eagerly, seeing the clear benefits.

"Excellent. Next time I visit we'll implant Warthog's and mine. Do the Hounds as soon as is convenient for them. What about the others in your hand?"

"Oh, these are portkeys. I thought that if we attached them the same way as the armour, down the sternum, they couldn't be taken off her, and will always be in contact with her skin. If we set each with an activation phase that she says with intent, then she can come and go from your properties as necessary."

Harry looked at Warthog again.

"Are you willing?"

_"Oh yes. They're very pretty, and she's right about them being the most practical option."_

"Alright. Have them all keyed as necessary. Also, see if you can throw one in to protect her from potions or mind altering anything. I'd rather go overboard with the protection than overlook something and cause trouble later."

He stood, gathering up the reports and putting them in the bag with the phones and grenades, tucking the whole thing away in his cuff.

"I'm heading back to Hogwarts before I'm missed. Keep up the good work; I'll be back when I can."

He swept out of the room without waiting for a response, Warthog slinking gracefully at his side.

"Jinky?" He called quietly when he was sure he was out of earshot.

The black clad elf popped in at his elbow, handing him a report, and left again just as quickly.

Harry smiled, tucking it away.

* * *

Draco sagged in relief when Harry slipped quietly into the dorm at close to four in the morning.

"How did it go?" He whispered as Harry stripped off his shoes and jacket.

Harry tossed him a sharp look, even as he undid his shirt.

"Well enough. Any trouble here?"

Draco shook his head, stifling a yawn. The Pepper Up was wearing off, and he was starting to crash, hard.

"Not a peep. Everyone went to sleep with no issues, and haven't stirred since. No inspections, and as you can see, not a single scorch mark." He grinned at his friend.

Harry chuckled quietly, putting on his pyjamas, then pulled out a tiny bottle and handed it to the exhausted blond.

"Go to sleep, Draco. In the morning when everyone's left the dorm, take two drops of that. Take two more before lunch, and one just before dinner. Make sure you have it before you eat, but no more than thirty minutes before."

"What is it?" Draco wondered, tucking it carefully into the cuff Harry had given him.

"A customised Alertness Potion. It'll keep you functional tomorrow, until you can go to bed at a reasonable time. Just be aware that you might be a bit snappish and aggressive while taking it. Keep a lid on that, it's a massive tell. I've only given you enough for one day since it's highly addictive."

Draco stared, eyes wide as Harry casually slipped into bed and went to sleep, Warthog comfortably sprawled across the foot of the bed. He glanced at his cuff nervously. He couldn't believe that his friend would casually give him something highly addictive and probably heavily restricted or even illegal, just as a convenience. He blinked, forcing himself to settle down in bed, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

He supposed that this was the sort of thing he would have to get used to, working for someone like Harry. He knew, technically, he worked for Vahan, but it was Harry who held his loyalty. He just wondered how much loyalty Harry held for him in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book that Connor requests is a real book. It's called Selby's Secret, and it's written by an Australian author named Duncan Ball. It's a brilliant book and I highly recommend it, especially if you have kids or younger siblings.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape intoned the next morning, looming behind the boy like a menacing shadow of potion stained doom. "Please come with me."

Ignoring Draco's twitch of barely controlled irritation, Harry glanced up from his plate of fruit and toast, then nodded agreeably and tossed back the last of his coffee. Standing, he slung his bag over one shoulder and followed the sour faced Potions Master out of the Great Hall.

The pair walked in silence for a moment, neither commenting when Warthog joined them from the depths of the shadows, stalking along next to Harry with surprising silence given her size.

Harry glanced down at her, admiring the rusty gold coat shifting over well-defined muscles as she stalked at his side.

_"You're staring,"_ she commented, blue eyes peering up with an amused glitter.

The dark haired boy shrugged and allowed his lips to twitch upward fondly. He looked forward again, making note of the route they were taking.

"May I ask where we're going, Sir?" He asked respectfully.

"The Headmaster wishes to see you," Snape snapped irritably.

"I see," Harry murmured. "Is this a normal meeting that he has with all new students, or has something specific happened?"

Snape gritted his teeth, trying to remind himself that it was a perfectly reasonable question, and at least the brat wasn't babbling incessantly.

Harry nodded slightly, despite the lack of answer, watching the Professor as they came to a halt in front of a gargoyle statue.

"Sherbet," the man intoned with a discretely stifled sigh.

Harry chuckled, green eyes lighting up in amusement. Oh, this was too good. Given Snape's reaction he had no doubt that ridiculous passwords were an ongoing aggravation. He made a point to remember that, and to see if his theory was correct. If it was always a variation of candy names, then his planned forays into the Headmasters office to speak with Albert would be much simpler than expected.

He kept his breathing slow and steady as the momentary humour drained away, being careful to not give away the irritation from his own dose of the Alertness Potion eating away at him. He wanted to draw his wand and cast ward detection spells as they ascended the spiralling stairs hidden behind the gargoyle, but he knew doing so with Snape around would be foolish. Maybe he could set Shot to developing some sort of passive ward reader? No, the poor girl had more than enough on her plate right now. If he could get his hands on another genius of her level then he might look into it, but until then he'd just put it on the 'when we get around to it' list.

He forced himself to focus when he heard Snape knock on the door, and the Headmaster's voice cheerily invite them in.

Stepping into the room, Harry swept his eyes around, taking in as much detail as possible, trying to get a feel for what kind of man occupied it.

_Plentiful bookshelves overstuffed with a variety of esoteric and obscure topics - trying to impress visitors with the breadth of his "knowledge" so people are more likely to defer to him as an authority. Useless trinkets everywhere selected to look mysterious; some modified ward monitors amongst them. Mismatched furniture to enhance the impression of quirky and harmless. Colour scheme shows clear favouritism towards Gryffindor; trying to give the impression of forthrightness? Albert hidden away on the top shelf but reachable. Portraits of previous school heads - convenient alarm system if they can travel to or communicate with other portraits. Perhaps this is how he always seems to know everything that happens in the school? Holy shit, is that a PHOENIX?_

Harry couldn't have stopped his jaw from dropping if his life depended on it at the sight of the red and gold bird sitting on a golden perch; that it fitted with his current character was a convenient bonus.

Warthog's eyes locked onto the bird as well, though her reaction was to lick her lips.

_"That's one of those self-cooking chickens! Can I eat it?"_

Harry pulled himself together and frowned down at his familiar.

"No, you can't eat it."

There was a pregnant pause, while Harry frowned at his familiar, ignoring the amused chuckle from the man behind the desk, and the grudgingly amused snort from Snape.

_"I'm gonna eat it."_

Rolling his eyes, Harry crossed his arms and glared at the wilful feline as she lowered herself and started stalking the watching and highly amused bird.

"If you try to eat it, I'm not patching you up after it pecks and claws you to pieces. You'll have to heal naturally and that will give you scars and you'll be _ugly_." He smirked.

Warthog froze mid stalk, one foot in the air even as she looked back at Harry.

_"You wouldn't."_

"Do you want to take that risk?"

The bonded pair stared at each other, testing the other's determination. Finally, Warthog snarled and turned around, slinking grumpily back to Harry and plopping her hind down next to him. The boy could feel the waves of sulk being sent his direction through their bond, and he chuckled and rubbed her ears affectionately.

"Ah, Mr Potter!" Dumbledore called cheerfully. "Just the person I wanted to see!"

_'Well I'd assumed so, since you summoned me here._ ' Harry thought to himself irritably. Outwardly, he smiled politely, though he kept his posture slightly hunched and a hand on Warthog for 'comfort'.

"Ah, can I ask why, Sir? Have I done something wrong?"

Next to him, Snape scowled and stalked over to stand against the wall, obviously intending to blend into the shadows and hopefully be forgotten.

"Not at all, my boy, not at all! Lemon drop?" The elderly man gestured to a seat, then offered a bowl full of yellow candies.

Declining politely, Harry took the indicated seat, Warthog sitting next to him alertly and occasionally eyeing the phoenix with barely concealed intent.

"Tea?" The Headmaster persisted, pouring himself a cup and offering one to Snape, who rejected it with a small shake of his head.

"No thank you, Sir." Harry was tempted to push to get the old man to get to his point, but he recognised it was merely the potions effects and fought it back, idly stroking Warthog's neck and fiddling with her collar to keep himself calm.

"Very well. How are you settling in at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore smiled, sipping his tea and watching Harry with his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes on Warthog. There'd been rumours that Dumbledore was a Legilimens, and while he had the beginnings of Occlumency well established, he knew he wasn't up to fending off a probe from a Master Legilimens yet.

"Well enough, Sir. Everyone seems friendly enough, though some people seem put off by my House. I don't care though; I'm happy there and they've been very helpful and welcoming."

Dumbledore hummed lightly. "And your classes?"

"They're interesting. I've been reading ahead in the texts, and some of the theory goes over my head, but I'm working through it as best I can. I've no doubt that when we cover those parts in class it will make a bit more sense."

Harry watched as the Headmasters gaze flicked to Warthog for a brief moment, and nearly smacked his own forehead at his obliviousness. Of course Snape and McGonagall had escalated the issue to the Headmaster, and the old man would want to know more about her as soon as possible. He'd argued with the Hounds about how best to explain her presence and a mature familiar bond since he was going to be picked up from the Dursley's, and in the end they'd uneasily settled on a half-truth filled with misdirection.

"Professors McGonagall and Snape have informed me that you claim a full familiar bond with your Mountain Lion, is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Might I ask how that's possible? From what I understand, she arrived after dark the night before you caught the train to Hogwarts. Hagrid said that he collected you from the Dursley's, and you seemed unaware of your wizarding heritage at the time. You also seem remarkably well informed for someone newly introduced to our world."

Harry frowned slightly, fighting the urge to stare the old man down. He kept his gaze on the tip of the Headmaster's nose instead.

"Is that a problem?"

"Oh, not at all, my boy! Please forgive an old man's curiosity, but I must be certain that you are indeed able to care for and control her, for the safety of everyone in this castle."

Sighing and leaning back slightly in his chair, Harry partially dropped the innocent act.

"My father discovered her as a kitten when examining some rare furniture he was looking to buy. She'd been smuggled, and somehow ended up trapped in one of the boxes he was examining. She was too small to be left alone, and in bad shape. We weren't sure she would make it."

Dumbledore frowned, leaning forward slightly.

"Your father? My boy…"

Harry looked bored.

"I was adopted a few years ago. But as I was saying, he found her, and thought that if she survived, she would make an excellent bodyguard for me when our security team was unable to be with me. Given my celebrity in this world, and his contacts and wealth in both, he leans toward paranoia when it comes to my safety. Justifiably so, I think."

The Headmasters frown deepened as Harry spoke, idly stroking his beard.

"And yet you knew nothing of our world until your birthday?"

Harry couldn't help but grin and chuckle a little.

"On the contrary, Headmaster. I'm extremely well informed about this world, but Hagrid seemed to be having so much fun explaining everything that I didn't want to hurt his feelings." He glanced at the watch on his wrist, a rather beautiful piece with a concealed garrotte wire that Sergei had gifted him for his eleventh birthday. "It's nearly time for class, Sir. May I be excused?"

Receiving an absent nod, the boy gracefully stood and exited the room, Warthog following behind after giving the phoenix one last longing look.

Shutting the door behind him, he quickly drew his wand and cast every detection spell he could in the trip down the stairs. There weren't as many wards or alerts as he was expecting, and he was somewhat disappointed that getting into the office wouldn't be more of a challenge. Still, at least he could make good his promise to Albert.

* * *

"Albus?" Snape asked after a few minutes had passed in silence.

Dumbledore started slightly, having forgotten about the other man in the room. He stood, walking over to a small whirring gizmo that released the occasional puff of red smoke. Peering at it intently, he drew his wand and cast a few diagnostic spells, only to curse angrily at the results.

Snape watched him with a faint frown.

"The wards fell years ago, but the monitor was faulty and didn't sound the alert! Severus, I need you to find out everything you can about young Harry and his new family. I'll investigate the official channels. I'm his Magical Guardian; if there was a change in his living circumstances or custody I should have been notified. We must make sure that whoever this mysterious father is, that he is a suitable guardian. The boy is in a precarious position, and we must ensure that he is not being used."

Snape privately wondered if Albus actually believed the crap spewing out of his mouth, or if he really was that oblivious to his own hypocrisy. Either way, he nodded his agreement and exited the room, striding down the hall towards his classroom with a menacing glower.

_'I wonder if Albus noticed that he didn't actually answer the questions about that feline of his,'_ he mused. _'The brat might be cleverer than he seems, but I WILL find out what he's hiding.'_

* * *

Harry sighed with relief as he slipped from the castle that night. It was close to midnight again, but his schedule was significantly lighter tonight, so he hoped to get back to bed at a reasonable time.

Using his portkey, he closed his eyes against the dizzying whirl of colours, then immediately strode through the Manor gates.

"Tippy? Where is everyone?"

Tippy bowed low, and gently shut the door while Jinky took a bag of Harry's school clothes to have the standard protection runes added.

"Misters Alex and Sergei are in the office with the Smith golem. Miss Shot is in her laboratory and has asked not to be disturbed unless it's an emergency because she might blow herself up by accident if interrupted. Master Connor is asleep in his room."

Harry nodded, striding towards the stairs.

"Jinky, please let the Hounds know that I need one of them tonight."

The black clad elf nodded and disappeared with a barely audible pop.

Harry looked longingly towards Connor's room, but shook his head. Connor needed his sleep, he couldn't be disturbed two nights in a row.

Turning toward the office, he wasn't at all surprised to find his Hounds and father waiting for him. He was glad he wouldn't have any new reports to go over just yet, since he wouldn't get to the pile from last night until the weekend as it was.

"I need to see Gregorovitch; my true wand has been temperamental since I got that back up from Ollivander's. Which of you is coming with me?"

Alex nodded, stepping forward.

"I will. Is that our only stop tonight?"

Harry nodded, rubbing his temple slightly to relieve the headache he had brewing. His Alertness Potion was starting to wear off, and he wasn't willing to take more, or a Pepper Up, since he'd end up either addicted or comatose if he overdid it.

Alex eyed him with concern.

"Are you sure you want to do this tonight? You look like you could use some sleep, to be honest."

The boy sighed, gratefully sipping the glass of water Jinky had brought him.

"I need to get it done; I don't like having my primary wand so disabled. That said, I'll be heading straight to bed afterward. I'm starting to crash."

Alex nodded, making a mental note to be extra vigilant during their outing since Vahan was too exhausted to react quickly to any threats. A quick glance at Sergei showed that he was thinking similarly.

"Would you like us both to come, just in case? We can get Swit to keep an eye on Connor," the Russian offered.

Harry shrugged tiredly.

"I don't care, as long as we go right now. I won't be upright for much longer."

The men nodded and quickly summoned Swit as they headed toward the entryway, the tired boy braced between them.

* * *

"It's jealous," Gregorovitch chuckled.

"Pardon?" Harry blinked in confusion. "How can a wand be _jealous_?"

Gregorovitch sighed, settling back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"You must understand, a wand is not just a tool. While not a strictly accurate description, a wand is for all intents and purposes partially sentient." He paused, pursing his lips as he searched for the right words. "Think of generic wands, the sort Ollivander sells, as infants. They don't know very much, or have any real personality, though they do have a preference for the person who makes them… feel good?"

Harry nodded slightly to show he was following.

"Alright, and then you have custom wands, who are… toddlers? Strongly attached to their person, with a distinct personality of their own."

"So my toddler is throwing a tantrum?"

The three men sniggered at Harry's indignant tone.

Coughing lightly, Gregorovitch shook his head.

"If it was a normal custom wand, then I'd say yes. But yours is Blood Bound to you, so it would be closer to, ah, early teens?" He scratched his chin. "A persons wand grows with them, becomes an extension of themselves, which is why another person's wand will never work quite as well for you as your own. In your case, you have _literally_ put part of yourself into it. A childish, immature part, to be sure, but a part nonetheless."

"Alright, so my _teenager_ is throwing a tantrum. How do I fix it?" Harry scowled down at the wand laying innocently on the counter between them. It was a beautiful piece of work, and he took care to maintain it as thoroughly as the rest of his weapons. The wood gleamed with a low sheen from the oil regularly worked into it, and Harry could feel it practically preening at the attention it was getting.

Gregorovitch shrugged, picking up a wood shaving and fiddling with it absently.

"Have you tried talking to it? Explaining why you have a second wand that you're using more frequently? It wouldn't bother to understand anyone else, but through your connection with it, it should comprehend your meaning."

"Talk to it." Harry stated flatly. "Are you serious?"

Gregorovitch nodded.

"Use your bond to communicate with it. I don't mean chat audibly, I didn't give it ears." He suddenly grinned. "Though if you _want_ to speak out loud to it, I'm sure your bodyguards over there would appreciate the laugh. I know I would!" His mouth snapped shut and he dropped his eyes submissively when he remembered just who he was talking to.

Harry grunted, too tired to retaliate. Closing his eyes, he felt carefully for the bond, sliding metaphorical fingers down it in gentle strokes until he could feel the pulsing ball at the other end.

_Hurt. Abandonment. Longing. Jealousy. Confusion._

He focused, trying to send his own emotions and thoughts into the ball.

_Attachment,_ he soothed. _Affection. Not alone. Not replaced. Hidden guardian. Protection._

_Want?_ He received tentatively. _Not replaced?_

_Never_ , he swore. _Wanted. Cherished. True wand._

The rush of gratitude he received back nearly sent him crashing to the floor, and he grabbed the counter, dazed.

"Boss?" He heard Sergei ask, concern thickening his accent as he helped prop the exhausted child upright. "Are you alright?"

Grunting an affirmative, he prised his eyes open.

"I think it understands now. I doubt it will ever _like_ me using the Holly wand, but it shouldn't give me any more trouble. I hope. Thank you for your help." He nodded to the wand maker, and turned to exit the store, only to stagger almost drunkenly as the final stages of exhaustion set in.

With a curse, Sergei swept the boy into his arms, leaving Alex to pay Gregorovitch for his time and run swiftly after them.

"We need to get him back to Hogwarts. He won't make it on his own."

The men looked down at their tiny employer, expecting a firm rebuttal, only to find him sound asleep, curled up with his ear against Sergei's chest and one hand gripping the Russian's shirt tightly.

The two men froze, staring down at the angelic face. The hard lines and grim determination had melted away, leaving Harry looking every bit as young and vulnerable as he really was.

Looking at each other, they felt their determination to protect the boy grow even stronger, tempered with something akin to parental devotion.

* * *

Fawkes felt two of the bonds to his adopted youngling strengthening, and chirped sleepily in approval. He may not be able to protect the Red Girl's chick himself, but he was surrounded by ones who could, and that would have to suffice for now. Ruffling his feathers, he tucked his head under his wing and settled back to sleep.

* * *

Draco had slipped into a light doze, despite his best efforts, when the door to their room was opened by an unseen hand. Jolting awake, he pretended to still be asleep as Warthog padded into the room, scanning to make sure everyone was asleep. Her intelligent blue gaze paused on him for a moment, and Draco gave up his pretence under her knowing stare. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Everything alright, Warthog?" He whispered.

The puma dipped a slight nod, then turned to look over her shoulder and chuff softly.

The blond boy watched with eyebrows raised as invisible hands pulled Harry's blankets back, settling a weight onto the bed and removing the invisibility charm.

Harry lay sprawled on the mattress, moving slightly as his clothing seemed to tug itself free and be replaced with comfortable pyjamas transfigured from a broken quill and a piece of parchment left on the little table beside the bed. Covers were drawn over his slender form, and a hand smoothed through his hair, even as the boy offered a sleepy mumble and curled up on his side.

Draco watched all this in silence, taking longer than he would have liked to realise that Charleston and Petrikov had managed to infiltrate Hogwarts just so they could tuck Harry into bed.

He heard the footsteps move closer to his own bed, and looked towards where he estimated the invisible man was standing. He wasn't sure which Hound it was, but they guided him back down, and tucked the blankets around him gently. Smiling sleepily when he felt a hand run through his hair, just like they had done for Harry, he whispered a goodnight, and let himself drift off to sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry leaned against the doorframe of the classroom, watching as Peeves sawed half an inch off one leg of every table and chair in the room. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited politely to be noticed by the poltergeist.

Five minutes later, he gave in and rolled his eyes, clearing his throat quietly.

Peeves looked up, a wide grin splitting his face to a frankly disturbing degree.

"Well, if it isn't Potty wee Potter!" He cackled. "Damaging all this furniture! I should call Filthy Filch on you, yes I should!" He flipped upside down, giggling to himself.

Harry smiled slightly, shifting his weight to stand upright and saunter into the room, idly trailing a finger across the top of a nearby desk and examining the fingertip for dust.

"You could, but then you wouldn't find out about the present I have for you."

There was a moment of silence, before Peeves flipped right way up again and flew closer. Pausing when his face was uncomfortably close to Harry's, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"A present for Peevsie, you say? And what would a little Snake like you be wanting to give a wee ghostie like me?"

Smiling angelically, Harry pressed a button on his cuff and pulled out a rifle that sported a few extra attachments that looked like they held non-standard ammunition.

"Tell me, Peeves. Have you ever heard of paintball?"

* * *

Albert was disturbed from his rest when a small hand gently lifted him from his shelf. Opening his eyes, he couldn't see anyone in front of him, though he was clearly being held. A quick glance to the wall showed that all the portraits of the previous school heads had been turned around to face the wall, their muffled shouting revealing something about 'blasted poltergeists'. Amused, he waited until he was placed on an invisible head.

"Well, Mr Potter, I'm impressed. I did say within the week, and here you are!"

"Indeed I am," Harry replied mentally, checking to make sure his invisibility charm was still intact. The Phoenix was absent, fortunately. A magical creature like the fire bird wouldn't be fooled in the slightest by the charm.

"Did you bring me books?" Albert asked eagerly, his brim rippling around Harry's skull in his excitement.

"I did. Do you have information for me?"

The Hat hummed thoughtfully for a moment.

"The Headmaster was most displeased to discover the ward monitor tied to your former home was faulty and didn't alert him to the ward collapse when you left. It wasn't, of course, it was merely tampered with." If he had hands, he would have been rubbing them together in glee. "Now, what books do you have for me?"

Harry snorted.

"You can do better than that. Who tampered with the monitor? Do you know why? Are you aware of any current plans he has regarding me?"

Albert sighed, settling a little.

"I believe it was Fawkes who interfered with the monitor. As for why, I'd imagine it's because he considers himself something akin to a guardian or parent to you. No idea why, so don't bother asking me; if you want to know you'll need to ask him. In regards to plans, I know Albus is looking into your legal guardian, and will almost certainly try to regain control of you from them. I also know that he has plans to test you this year, though I don't know why, specifically. He's hidden something in the school, and wants you to go after it, probably at great personal risk. Can I have my books now?" He drooped, practically whining.

Nodding, Harry withdrew a package of books from his cuff and unshrank them.

"Thank you. I'll be back in a week or two to switch them out for you. Any suggestions for getting around the portraits? I don't think using Peeves will work a second time."

Albert scoffed.

"And deprive myself of entertainment as you try to get around them? Figure it out on your own!"

Stifling an audible growl, Harry pulled the hat off his head and placed the books he'd brought inside it, placing it back on the shelf. He was careful to arrange it in the exact same position he'd removed it from, then cast a quick glance around for anything else his presence might have disturbed. Seeing nothing, he slipped to the door, opening it and slithered out and down the stairs, reengaging the wards as he went.

Heading out of the castle so he could make a quick trip home, he pondered the information he'd been given. The news that Dumbledore was going to try to find out more about his guardian was expected, as was the item placed in the school to test him. He smirked, sighing in satisfaction. Given the other little bits of information he already had from Flamel, his own deductions, and the discovery of the Horcrux in his head, it was fairly easy to see why the Headmaster was unwilling to let him go to a new guardian. It also went some way towards explaining why the Dursleys were selected as guardians; Dumbledore clearly thought the Dark Lord was going to return and had started placing his chess pieces in preparation.

It was a good strategy, really. An abused boy rescued into a world of wonder by a benevolent grandfather figure, facing challenges to prove his worth and provide a little training in life and death situations and you have the perfect tool to martyr themselves to take out the Dark Lord. If the tool survives, then you have the perfect political mouthpiece that would just brim with loyalty and the right degree of humility. Pity that Harry had completely different plans.

Placing a hand on Warthogs head as she materialised next to him, he transported them both to Potter Manor.

* * *

"That's it?" Harry asked as Shot and Marcel stepped back from the infirmary bed he was lying on. He sat up and looked down at his bare chest, admiring the new additions to his sternum. The jewel like constructs reflected a wet looking shimmer as they caught the light, but not so brightly as to be garish.

"Almost," Marcel murmured, wand twitching in the air around the boy's ribs. "I just need to double check that they aren't irritating the skin or dragging on it now that you're sitting up. After that, we just need to charm them so that nobody will notice them. Well, except for people who already know that they're there. You should be able to go shirtless without anyone batting an eyelid when I'm done."

Harry nodded, rolling his shoulders and moving a little to make sure the implants didn't pull or drag.

"They feel fine," he finally declared. "I can't even really feel them, and the setting doesn't hurt at all. There's a little weight there, but nothing that I won't forget about in an hour."

Marcel smiled, tucking his wand away in his sleeve.

"Excellent. Then we're all done here! The Hounds already have theirs implanted; it was just you and Warthog that we were waiting on. I imagine that Sergei and Alex will want to include them in your training, so make sure you allow time for that occasionally."

Harry nodded and stood, giving a final stretch. Glancing at his watch, he was pleased to see he would still have enough time to play with Connor before heading back to the castle.

* * *

"You _sick, twisted little shit!_ " Albert was furious, launching into a tirade the moment that Harry placed it on his head.

"What's wrong, Albert? Didn't you get what you wanted?" Harry replied sweetly.

"How could you do this to me? Do you have any idea how _cruel_ that was?" The Hat nearly sobbed. "The complete works of Sherlock Holmes, with every other page and the final chapter _ripped_ from each book?! It wasn't even neatly cut! It was _ripped_! Sometimes only half the page was missing! And you left me like that for two weeks!"

Harry waiting for Albert to finish it's rant, a calm smile on his face.

"And what did you learn?"

"Oh, screw you! So, I put you in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw; cry me a fucking river! Your revenge was completely disproportionate!"

The boy chuckled indulgently.

"You really are foul mouthed when you're angry. It's so cute."

Albert subsided with a snarl, sulking.

"Alright, moving on. Was my method of getting you sufficiently entertaining?" He shifted his grip on the broom he was perched on, making sure he didn't drop the wooden pole he had resting across his lap.

"I suppose," came the grudging response. "How did you make sure the portraits didn't notice?"

"A strong Notice-Me-Not on the pole and hook. A friend of mine knocked it up so that anything I touch with the hook at the end will have the charm extend to cover it. I have a separate one on myself and the broom, over the top of the strongest invisibility and stealth charms I know."

"So you literally just used a broom to get outside the office and then stuck a pole through the window and lifted me out?"

"Yep," Harry confirmed cheerfully. "It's convenient that the window is always open so Fawkes can come and go. Of course, it's warded so nobody else can get in, but as long as no part of my own body crosses the window sill it won't trip the alarm. Luckily for me the wards don't recognise you as a living being."

"Huh," the hat paused. "I'm grudgingly impressed. Could the same method be used to plant items with a listening charm in there?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that would trip the wards. I think the only reason you don't is because nobody thought you'd agree to spy, and most people have too much respect for such a well-known artefact of the Founders to try to steal you. Anyway, to the point of this little excursion. Do you have anything for me?"

"Eh, not much." The hat rippled uneasily. "Albus has put some nasty traps in on the third floor corridor with the help of the other Professors, supposedly to protect the item he put there, but I have my doubts about how effective they are. I could name at least eight _first_ years who could get past them, let alone the other years. I know _you_ wouldn't even be slowed by them. Possibly the only thing that would give you trouble would be the troll."

Harry blinked in surprise.

"There's a troll in the castle? Is it properly secured?"

Albert snorted disparagingly. "Not hardly. Albus had to disable some of the wards to get it in, and a few more for the Cerberus. If either one got free then they wouldn't even be able to locate it in the castle or lock down the section it's in to stop it moving!"

"I see. I know what he's 'guarding', and I'm pretty sure that these so called protections are just a test for me, and the item is bait for whatever remains mobile of that failure of a Dark Lord I allegedly dispatched."

The hat gave a feeling of agreement.

"Will you do something about the creatures in the castle? Hogwarts would be grateful to you if you did. She would consider it a personal favour."

The hovering boy frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean 'she would consider it a personal favour'?"

Albert chuckled.

"Hogwarts is sentient, after a fashion. I speak for her, since she lacks the necessary equipment to do so herself."

"Interesting. I'll do it, but it might take me a while. I need to make sure I'm properly prepared for something of that level."

"Oh, of course! She just asks that you do it as quickly as possible, and if the worst happens and they get loose, that you do your best to protect the students and get them clear."

"I can do that," Harry agreed. A quiet beep from his watch let him know that his time was up, and he pulled a new package of books from his cuff. "Ok, punishment's over. This is the _complete_ Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes." Lifting the hat from his head, he slid the bundle inside and caught the violently ejected 'edited' version. A quick vanishing spell disposed of the desecrated literature.

Hooking the hat on the end of the pole, he carefully extended it through the window and placed the Hat back on the shelf. Pulling the pole back, he tapped the shrinking rune Shot had added, and stuck it back in his cuff. Landing the broom behind some bushes, Harry removed the invisibility charms and shrunk the broom, returning it to the cuff as well before stepped out from behind the greenery and sauntering casually towards to castle for a late lunch.

He'd had to get a second cuff from Shot to fit all of the goodies he liked to keep on him at all times, and at the rate he was accumulating 'essentials', he was going to need a third sooner rather than later. Maybe he could have one made as a gauntlet so he didn't look like some sort of hippy wanker with multiple bands around his wrists?

His thoughts were brought to a crashing halt as he stepped inside the castle doors, only to have pain blossom between his eyes as his glasses broke and his nose spurted blood in a dramatic crimson shower that had the front of his white shirt stained completely in under a minute.

" _Fuck_!" He shouted, a hand going up to cup his injured face. Eyes watering, he did his best to look around to identify the culprit.

"Oops! Sorry wee Potty Potter!" Peeves giggled, spiralling closer. "Peevsie didn't see you there!"

Harry took a few deep breaths through his mouth, trying to regain control of his temper.

"Peeves," he growled. "Did you just shoot me in the face with a paintball?"

For the first time since the poltergeist's manifestation in the school, the students of Hogwarts were treated to the sight of Peeves fleeing from a first year, all the while howling about how the mean boy had stolen his balls.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Six weeks later, life at Hogwarts had settled into annoying predictability. Classes during the day, homework in the afternoons, additional studying after dinner, socialising and networking at every opportunity. True to his word, Harry and Draco had started a study group in the library after dinner on Wednesdays and Fridays, and they had quickly managed to convince Longbottom, Granger and Thomas to join them. Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson had also decided to come along, though in Parkinson's case it was less the opportunity to network or study, and more of an opportunity to send Harry dirty looks and bitchy comments for daring to take any of her beloved Draco's attention away from her. Harry was working to get some Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs to join them, but so far the only one who had seemed potentially willing was a Hufflepuff third year named Cedric Diggory. He hadn't shown up yet, but Harry was cautiously optimistic.

Heading into the library, he gave a respectful nod to the Librarian, Madam Pince, and settled himself at his usual table. A quick glance around found the usual upper years scribbling away at their homework, and a handful of giggling couples hiding in the dark corners and getting handsy.

Rolling his shoulders, Harry pulled out his homework planner and glanced over it to refresh his memory. There was nothing major that needed his attention except a Transfiguration essay, so he pulled out the other assignments that needed a quick finishing touch so he could get them out of the way.

He let his mind drift as he worked, pondering his latest puzzle. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Quirrel, was beginning to irritate him. Everything about him was clearly fake, and it was beginning to frustrate him that nobody else seemed to pick up on it. The timid demeanour and stutter were clearly put on, and not particularly well at that; and the sharp pains in his scar that he always got in the man's presence was suspicious in the extreme as well. He planned to talk to his Hounds about it the next time he saw them, since he was beginning to form a rather unpleasant theory regarding the turbaned man. If Quirrel was possessed, like he suspected, then he had bigger problems than acquiring the Stone for Flamel.

A bag thumping onto the table next to him drew him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Granger in all her frizzy haired, beaver toothed glory, with a rather irritated Draco a few steps behind.

"Good evening, Granger. How are you today?" Harry asked politely.

"I'm fine, Harry. Have you started your Charms essay yet? Did you want me to look over it for you?" Granger beamed, dropping into the seat with a thump and beginning to pull Harry's work closer to herself.

Draco slid elegantly into the seat opposite Harry, and graced her with a withering look.

"Granger, perhaps you should focus on your own work instead of trying to look superior to everyone else. Perhaps then your marks might actually get close to equalling Harry's. And speaking of Harry, I wasn't aware you were close enough friends to use his first name. When did that occur? Or were you just being rude again?"

Granger opened her mouth, fully prepared to argue, when Harry cleared his throat.

"Draco," he said, voice toned with mild disapproval. "There's no need to be rude, even if you are correct. Granger, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don't need you to check my work. My grades are higher than yours in both practical and theory across the board, and I'm not currently struggling to understand any of the work." He watched as Granger's eyes welled with tears and her bottom lip began to wobble. Placing his hand over hers, he met her eyes and smiled gently. "If I ever do, though, you'll be the first person I ask for help. Alright?"

Granger sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Alright. Thanks, Harry."

Harry let his face fall into a small frown. "Draco did have a point about being overly familiar though. You shouldn't use someone's first name unless you are specifically asked."

The girls face contorted in frustration. "But we're friends, aren't we? And besides, that's a silly archaic rule. I don't see why such a thing would still be used in today's society."

Raising his free hand to cut her off before she could start ranting, Harry sighed.

"Granger, we aren't close enough to warrant using each other's first names; we are close acquaintances at best. Did you read the etiquette book Draco recommended for you? If you're going to be part of this world, then you need to understand it and assimilate to a degree. If you want to change something, you need to know why it is the way it is _first_ , rather than just bull ahead thoughtlessly. You're not stupid, so don't give the impression you are. The connections you make now, in school, will affect the rest of your life." He widened his eyes slightly, taking on an earnestly innocent look, gripping her hand slightly tighter. "Besides, don't you want to fit in here?"

Granger nodded hesitantly, then dropped her eyes and pulled her hand away.

"I suppose. I just thought, since we were both muggle raised…" She trailed off, head drooping so her hair fell forward to cover her reddened cheeks.

"Well, we all have our flaws, I suppose," Parkinson's obnoxious voice interjected. "Still, you could at least _try_ not to broadcast your lack of class."

Draco's face tightened as the girl dropped down next to him, leaning against his arm.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He may not like Granger particularly, but she had the potential to be a researcher in the same league as Shot if he could get her to start thinking outside of the library. As such, she was his until he decided to cut her loose or kill her.

"Hello Parkinson. It's plain you're the expert on class. Your parents must have spent a fortune on the finest tutors to turn you into the perfect lady to represent your family." He waited until Parkinson flushed slightly from the praise, and then struck. "Pity it was wasted."

A passing fifth year Ravenclaw choked slightly, before sniggering and hurrying off to pass on the latest gossip. Apparently Potter could be _savage_.

Even Draco was surprised into widening his eyes slightly. Granger's jaw dropped, and her eyes darted between Harry and Parkinson.

"Um, a-are we interrupting something?" Longbottom, Crabbe and Goyle stood behind Parkinson, having arrived just in time to catch Harry's last comment.

"Not at all," Harry smiled smoothly. "Have you started your Transfiguration essay yet?"

The three newest arrivals sat down, pulling out their assignments.

"N-not yet," Longbottom stammered, warily eyeing the livid Parkinson. "I think I understand the theory, but I can't seem to get the spell to work properly." He looked down, flushing with shame.

Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement. Both boys were considerably more intelligent than they appeared, but they did struggle with the practical work.

Harry pursed his lips as he thought.

"Alright, if you want we could maybe have a practice session after we get the essay done? See if we can figure out where things are going wrong for you."

"Perhaps you aren't as smart as you think you are if you can't see that the issue is that all three of them are practically squibs!" Parkinson spat. "Honestly, all three of them should just leave and stop embarrassing themselves!"

Longbottom shrank into himself, taking the words to heart, but Crabbe and Goyle both narrowed their eyes slightly. A quick glance at Draco confirmed that there would be at least three letters being sent home immediately after study group.

"Leave."

Harry's cold tone had everyone at the table freezing in place.

Parkinson, however, was too intent on putting the little halfblood back in his place, and missed that even Draco had paled nervously and was trying to discretely edge away from her.

"Why should I?" She scoffed.

Harry's frigid gaze never left hers, and after a few moments, the Pureblood Princess began to realise that she might have miscalculated.

"Everyone in this group takes their studies seriously and are willing to put the work in to achieve the results that they want. You are sabotaging their efforts, and your petty attempts a bullying are beyond pathetic. We could put up with that, but you have gone too far this time. You have blatantly insulted my friends, and I will not tolerate it any longer. You are no longer welcome to join us. Please leave."

Pansy looked to Draco for support, only to find him watching her coldly, obviously in complete agreement with the halfblood upstart. Huffing angrily, she stood and grabbed her bag, paying no attention to her chair tipping backwards and landing on the floor with a loud bang. Leaning over the table and pointing a finger threateningly in Harry's face, she snarled, teeth bared.

"This is _not_ over, Potter!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the library, doing her best to slam the heavy doors behind her.

"Why do people keep saying that to me?" Harry mused quietly. "First Snape, and now Parkinson. Maybe they should get together and brainstorm better exit lines. I'm sure between the two of them they could come up with something much better."

The other children at the table sniggered quietly, and turned back to sorting their homework and various related paraphernalia.

"Sounds like we missed something interesting," Zabini observed as he and Thomas approached. The Italian boy righted Pansy's chair and sat, Thomas settling next to him.

Draco smiled in welcome, nodding to Thomas.

"Oh, you have no idea!" He glanced at Harry, fighting down a wide grin. "Wait until my father hears about this!"

Harry snorted and shook his head, shuffling his parchment and drafting the key points he wanted in his Transfiguration essay. He was well aware that Lucius would be laughing his arse off at the Parkinson bitch being put in her place. The girl has aspirations to be the next Lady Malfoy, but Lucius would probably disown Draco if the boy ever seriously considered it.

The group spent the next hour and a half drafting the last of their outstanding assignments, and coaching each other through their weaker areas. Surprisingly, Longbottom was an absolute whiz at Herbology, something which frustrated Hermione immensely since he would often offer up little details that she couldn't find in the books, but that Madam Sprout confirmed to be completely correct and complimented them on including.

Eventually, the group packed up and migrated to an empty classroom.

"Alright, let's start at the beginning. What's giving you trouble? The words? Movements? Something else?" Harry asked the three chubby boys.

All three shrugged, looking at their feet.

Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, retying his ponytail afterwards. He'd faded the glamours over the past month and a half, and was now nearly back to his usual appearance. Only his height and weight were still concealed, with the latter barely adjusted at all.

"Longbottom, let's start with you. When you first held your wand, what did you feel?"

Neville's eyes darted around nervously, before he sighed and let his shoulders droop sadly.

"Not much. Kind of scared, I guess?"

Harry blinked, frowning.

"By any chance, is your wand preowned? Were you given several to try before this one?"

The timid boy shook his head, fingers clutching his wand tightly.

"N-no. Gran just gave me this one. It," he paused, looking ashamed. "It was my dad's."

Harry adopted Sympathetic Look Number Seven. He knew that the Longbottom's currently resided in the long term care ward at St Mungo's Hospital after being tortured into insanity shortly after Harry had supposedly defeated the Dark Lord.

"That's most likely your issue then. I've seen you in class, you aren't very confident, but you've got the motion and incantation right. The wand chooses the wizard, according to Ollivander, so using your dad's wand, especially while it's still bonded to him won't work for you very well. I'd recommend getting a new wand and seeing the difference. I bet you'll do really well with a properly matched wand." He smiled reassuringly at the hopeful look on the Longbottom Heir's face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Granger practically vibrating with curiosity about Longbottom's father, but Draco whispered harshly in her ear and she subsided with a pout.

"Goyle? What about you?"

"Don't know," the boy grunted.

"Ok, why don't you show me a spell you know you can do. Something simple."

Goyle pointed his wand at a chair, the tip swishing and flicking just the way Flitwick had taught them.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered.

The chair lifted slightly, wobbling in the air and then dropping back to the floor harshly when Goyle dropped the spell.

Harry observed critically, as did Draco. The blonde moved closer, looking at how his friend was holding the wand.

"Can you do that again?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the meaty paw in front of him.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Harry asked Draco quietly.

"I think so? Something's wrong with his hand?"

Harry nodded.

"Can I see your hand for a moment?" Taking Goyle's hand in both of his, he gently flexed and rotated it, testing the range of movement. He then spread the hand out flat, and grabbed the other, comparing the two.

"Have you injured this hand?" Harry asked, poking at a few spots around the meat of the thumb and wrist.

Goyle shifted uncomfortably, before grunting an affirmative.

"Did you get it treated?" Harry looked up knowingly.

Looking guilty, Goyle shook his head.

"I'm guessing you punched something or someone, but didn't hold your fist right, and were too worried about getting in trouble to tell your parents you were hurt. Am I right?" Harry released the captured hand, stepping back, Draco half a step behind. Seeing Goyle flush red, he grinned a little. "It looks like you broke your hand, and it's healed wrong. You're having trouble with the wand motions because you don't have full range of movement in your hand. You'll need to go to the hospital wing and see what Madam Pomphrey says. She might be able to fix it for you, or you might need to see your family healer. Either way, it should hurt a lot less once you get it fixed. I'm guessing it aches a lot."

The hope spreading across Goyle's face was almost painful to watch. Draco had confided in Harry that Goyle's parents put a lot of pressure on him, and the beefy boy had been almost frightened of what would happen to him if he went home with his current low grades.

Shooing Goyle to go sit with Longbottom and the others, Harry turned his attention to Crabbe.

"Any thoughts?" Harry asked.

Crabbe shook his head, and simply gripped his wand and pointed it at the same chair Goyle had demonstrated on.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he grunted quietly.

The chair rattled slightly on the floor, rising a centimetre or two unevenly, then dropped to the floor again.

Harry blinked in surprise. If he hadn't been so close when Crabbe incanted the spell, he might have missed it entirely. Crabbe's voice was extremely nasal and breathy, and sounded like it took a lot of effort to produce sound. He was reminded of one of his Ghosts, Trent Donnolly. When the boy had come to them, Marcel had noticed that the extremely quiet boy had a habit of making grunting or growling noises, and when he _did_ speak, he was very breathy and nasal. He also found speaking to be very tiring, and could only do it for short periods of time. A thorough medical investigation had turned up a cleft soft palate. Apparently it was rare enough in the magical world that most Healers wouldn't have even looked for it.

Harry tilted his head, thinking. It was plausible that the minor speech impediment was enough to disrupt the spell, even though the incantation had in fact been spoken properly.

"Crabbe, this is going to sound weird, but can you open your mouth wide and tip your head back a little? I want to check something."

Crabbe gave him a confused look, but complied. Harry stepped close, resting a hand on the side of the boy's neck and jaw for stability. A quiet Lumos let him see the roof of Crabbe's mouth clearly. A quick examination confirmed his theory.

"I think you have what's called a submucosal cleft palate. A friend of mine had it too, though his was more severe and noticeable than yours. Do you get a lot of ear infections? Find it difficult to talk for long periods? When you were a baby, did you have trouble swallowing and learning to talk?" Each nod of agreement cemented the theory further. "You definitely need to see Madam Pomphrey, apparently once it's been identified it's really easy to treat, but you might need some speech therapy afterwards. You'll find eating a lot easier too, because it will be easier to swallow. You shouldn't get so many ear infections either. While you're there, get Pomphrey to check your hearing as well, since repeated ear infections can damage your hearing."

Crabbe clearly wasn't sure what to make of what Harry's claims, but he seemed willing enough to go with Goyle to the Hospital wing and get checked on the off chance Harry was right. His parents didn't pressure him as much as Goyle's did, but he didn't want to disappoint them.

"We'll go with you and explain," Draco offered. Both boys nodded, looking grateful.

The group separated, Zabini, and Thomas heading off down the hall in opposite directions while Longbottom lingered, waiting for Granger.

The girl hesitated, clutching a bundle of books to her chest. She watched Crabbe and Goyle exit the room, Harry and Draco on their heels.

"Potter?" She called as the blond and brunette reached the door.

Pausing, they both turned back to her, Harry raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Earlier, when you stood up for me against Parkinson? I just wanted to say thank you." She blushed, fingers tightening on the books.

"You're welcome," Harry nodded.

"Did you realise that you called me your friend, to her?" The girl asked, a mischievous grin sliding hesitantly across her face. "Does that mean I get to use your first name now, since by your own admission I'm now more than a close acquaintance?"

Harry laughed lightly.

"I suppose it does, _Hermione_." He grinned, then headed into the hallway.

Granger turned hopeful eyes on Draco.

The aristocratic blond looked at her for a moment, his face stoic.

"No." Spinning on his heel, he strode after his friends, leaving a pouting girl and chuckling Longbottom Heir behind.

"Well," Neville offered, "one out of two isn't bad?"

Hermione nodded ruefully.

* * *

Harry was sitting in front of the fire and reading his most recent letters from Connor, and his other kids. There was the usual childish rambling about pranks and hobbies, friends, school yard rivalries, and whatever else had caught their attention recently. Each of his kids had included a letter in the packet, and Elise had even sent along a picture she had drawn of a unicorn. Harry squinted at it and tilted his head slightly, trying to work out what the unicorn was doing, since despite appearances he was sure it wasn't supposed to be eating a cat.

"Reading your fanmail, Potter? I suppose it's the next best thing to a letter from your family," Parkinson scoffed, drawing the attention of everyone else in the common room.

"Parkinson, if you have an issue to address with me, then get to the point. Otherwise, do everyone a favour and spare us your poorly thought out insults. Your nasal whining is giving me a headache." Harry didn't bother to look up, merely turning the current page over so he could read the back.

He could hear some amused tittering from older students, and Draco, who was sitting on the couch to the left of his armchair, snorted quietly in agreement.

Parkinson glared at the blond, her perpetual pout drawing down unhappily.

"Draco?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at her over the top of his book.

"Sit down, Parkinson. You're embarrassing yourself."

The girl's lip wobbled, blue eyes filling with tears.

"Draco Malfoy, you… you _jerk_!" She cried, spinning on her heel and running from the room with tears beginning to leak down her cheeks.

Harry rolled his eyes and folded up his letters, casually slipping them back into the envelope.

"So dramatic. Someone should encourage her to put on a stage production."

Draco ginned, shutting his book and putting it on the arm of the couch.

"Would you really want to sit through a play where we have to hear her talk?"

Harry grimaced.

"I take it back."

Standing, he stretched until his muscles burned, then relaxed with a sigh.

"I need to go for a walk before bed. I'm too restless to sleep yet."

"Did you want me to come with you?" Draco offered.

"No, thanks, I'll be ok. I should be back by curfew anyway." Harry smiled, and put his correspondence in the pocket of his robes.

The blond nodded, and picked up his book again.

Harry strode out of the soothing green common room, making sure that the 'hidden' door was shut properly behind him. His heels clicked on the smooth stone floors as he walked down the empty hallways, lost in thought.

He really needed to get moving on a plan to retrieve the stone for Flamel. The man had been very clear that he had no specific time limit for the job, provided that the stone was back in his possession within the next year, since that was when he would need the stone to make his next dose of the Elixir of Life. The man had been surprisingly open about the situation when he met with Sergei, much to Harry's surprise. He couldn't imagine why someone would be so open about the object's potential when talking to a representative of a Crime Lord, but he supposed his reputation for always delivering was aiding him in this case. After all, if he screwed over the client and kept the stone for himself, it wouldn't be good for future business.

_"You're thinking very hard,"_ Warthog purred as she emerged from the shadows.

Harry smiled in welcome, stroking her head and massaging her ears.

"Mm. I have to get to work on a job, and I was thinking about how best to go about it."

_"I see. Anything I can help with?"_

"Not at this point, but I might need your help later. Just keep exploring the castle and let me know if you find anything I might be interested in."

_"Of course. In that vein, you might like to know there is a massive dog with three heads in the third floor corridor, that I have in no way been tormenting every day since a week after we got here."_ Warthog peered up at him, blue eyes shining innocently.

Harry snorted a laugh despite himself.

"Of course you haven't. Anything else up there that you know of?"

The puma thought for a few moments.

_"Well, I've smelled a plant of some sort, but I can't tell you what. It has an undertone of blood and rotten meat though, so I'd guess it's something you might want to set on fire, because as far as I'm concerned, whoever decided to enhance carnivorous plants with magic was out of their fucking gourd. I've also smelled something truly rank, but I couldn't tell you what it might be. All I know is that the smell was so bad it nearly knocked me out and my nose was so traumatised by it I couldn't smell anything afterwards for an hour."_

"I see," Harry mused. "Have you overheard anything from any of the teachers while you were roaming around? Or from your little friend?"

"Mr Potter," a deep voice intoned silkily. "Out after curfew? Tsk tsk. Perhaps a detention with me tomorrow after dinner will teach you the error of your ways, though given that you are as thick headed as your father, I have no doubt that the lesson will fail to stick."

Turning his head calmly, Harry observed Snape as he loomed over the much shorter boy. A deliberately obvious look at his watch had Harry raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"I still have forty minutes until curfew, and it will take less than five to get to the common room from here. Is there another issue you would like to address with me while we lack an audience?"

Snape scowled.

"Your insolence will not be tolerated, Mr Potter. So far, I have seen nothing to convince me that you are anything other than a selfish brat like your father. If you did not have your mother's eyes, I would have given up on you entirely! You may have everyone else fooled, but I will be watching you, and when you slip up, and you will, I will be waiting. Now, get back to the common room, and take that beast with you."

Harry watched as Snape spun on his heel, content that he would be obeyed. As the man rounded the corner with his robes billowing dramatically behind him, the boy stared thoughtfully after him.

"My mother's eyes, hmm?"

 


	9. Chapter 9

Adama sat back with a heavy sigh, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Tired, bloodshot eyes drifted over the whiteboard, then down over the scattered papers on the table in front of him. He was exhausted, and despite a small amount of progress, there was no end in sight.

Brady entered the room with some take away and coffee for the team, the smell of Indian quickly filled the room, the offering gratefully received by the half dozen hungry men and women.

"Anything new?" Brady asked as he sat down, opening his own container and eagerly starting on his chicken tikka masala.

"A little, but not much that's significant," Adama grumbled, even as he tore off a piece of naan and dipped it in his own curry. "Tim hasn't been able to turn up much, though he's working his way up the ranks at a steady pace. From what we can tell, it's confirmed that there are two mercenaries that handle the bulk of the work, but only under direct orders from above. They function as assistants and bodyguards to Vahan's Boy, who is the only one with confirmed direct access to the top boss. Paranoid bastard." He snorted derisively. "It's unclear if these 'Hounds' have access as well, but the current thinking is that they don't."

"So what do we know about Vahan's Boy then?" asked their newest member, Mary Drewitt. The blond woman had only recently been transferred from Homicide to Organised Crime, and had been immediately assigned to the Vahan task force - otherwise known as Strikeforce Wizard.

"Not much," came the grudging reply. "We don't even have a name, let alone a picture. All the sources agree that he exists, and many have seen him, but we haven't been able to get a solid description. There was a second kid that sometimes ran scut jobs for them, Tiny, but he seems to have disappeared." Adama winced, feeling more than a little guilt at the thought that he might have contributed to the child's death by approaching him and bringing him to the station.

Mary chewed thoughtfully.

"What about those 'Hounds'? What do we know about them?"

"Same," Brady grunted, not looking up from his meal. "No solid description, but we have some names. Alexander Charleston, and Sergei Petrikov. Problem is that we can't find any info on either of them, it's like they don't exist. Pretty sure that they're just an alias since there's no paperwork for either of them. What we do know is that these guys have been around for quite a while, before they were hired by Vahan. They've been linked to over thirty assassinations and nearly a hundred assaults, but nobody has been able to find them, let alone prove anything. Even if we've managed to arrest and convict their employers, we've never been able to get close to these guys. They're known to be extremely violent, but they're smart. Scarily so."

"Are we sure one of them, or even both, aren't really Vahan? They could be using the kid and rumours as a cover." Mary shrugged.

The rest of the men in the room froze, thinking about her suggestion. Suddenly, all of them were talking at once, standing up and grabbing papers, a flurry of activity filling the room as they forgot their meals in their new excitement.

Lifting her dinner out of the way, Mary leaned back and watched, her eyes glittering in amusement.

_'You're welcome, kid,'_ she thought.

* * *

Harry gave a nod of thanks to Gutshank, and activated the portkey to leave the bank. His suspicion that his parents personal effects might be in one of his vaults had proven correct, and he now had a trunk full of useful odds and ends, as well as a pile of diaries from his mother. Whatever it was about his 'mother's eyes' that had Snape all twisted up was probably in the little books, or at least a hint of what it might be.

He just hoped Snape wasn't some crazy stalker, because the last thing he needed was for the dungeon bat to transfer his obsession to Harry, just because he shared a feature in common with the woman who birthed him.

"A message from Mr South," Alex said when Harry arrived at Fortress, handing him an envelope.

Harry picked up his letter opener and slit the paper open, pulling out the missive. A quick glance over it and a wide smile spread across his face, his delighted laugh ringing out in the office.

Shot, the Hounds, and even the Smith golem paused to stare at him, unused to hearing such childlike mirth coming from the slender boy.

"Do you remember that girl we rescued from the Acolytes a while back?"

The other people nodded, wary.

"Her mother is a cop, and feels particularly indebted to me for saving her only daughter. So she got herself assigned to the Vahan task force and has given them a new tail to chase. Apparently, she suggested that Alex and Sergei are really Vahan, and that myself and the rumours surrounding our 'boss' are just to draw attention away from you!"

Harry started giggling again, this time joined by the laughter of his employees.

* * *

Draco was practically bouncing when they got ready that morning.

Harry watched in amusement as the blond boy chattered excitedly in front of the mirror, combing out his hair and slicking it back carefully.

They were both standing at the sinks in nothing but towels wrapped around their waists, the bench in front of them littered with various beautifying products - most of which belonged to Draco.

"How do you think you'll do?" Draco was asking, even as he rubbed a small amount of some variety of skin potion between his hands and smoothed it over his face.

Harry snorted.

"Draco, how long have we been flying? This is a beginners class, primarily to introduce muggle raised to broomsticks as a method of transport rather than dust removal. It's not like they're going to have us playing Quidditch in front of talent scouts in the first ten minutes. We'll be fine."

Draco pouted, but nodded in agreement.

"Still, it'll be fun to show everyone how it's really done!"

Harry frowned slightly, reaching out to catch Draco's arm with his fingertips as the pale boy turned to leave the bathroom.

"Draco, this is an excellent opportunity to build some goodwill connections with the other students, the ones I've pointed out especially. I don't expect you to play down your talent at all, but I _do_ expect you to not cause trouble by bragging or exaggerating. If you see an opportunity to help someone, I expect you to do it. Don't make yourself look like a braggart or bully - I'll not have my reputation tarnished by association. Clear?"

Draco nodded, calming slightly.

"Anyone in particular you want me to keep an eye on?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Granger. I know that she's been extremely nervous, and I'm sure her housemates haven't been doing much to help. Maybe Thomas as well, but he's fairly sporty and fearless, so I doubt you'll need to do much there. You don't need to teach them, that's what Hooch is for, just try to encourage them. Be…" Harry paused with a smirk. "Nice."

Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"You're taking Neville then?"

Harry grimaced, but nodded.

"He's so nervous that I wouldn't be surprised if he maims himself despite my best efforts. He told me that his Grandmother wouldn't let him touch a broom, because he was so clumsy that he'd break his neck. There was something else in there about not living up to his father's legacy, but I get the impression that's a regular part of her lectures."

The blond sighed, and tightened his towel.

"Alright. We'd better get dressed before we miss out on breakfast."

Nodding in agreement, Harry followed Draco from the bathroom and headed to his wardrobe.

"Warthog? What collar do you want today?" He asked, laying his own clothes on his bed.

_"Blue,"_ she replied, grooming her tail.

Harry rolled his eyes at her tone, but dutifully withdrew the collar and clasped it around her throat before attending to his own clothing.

Sliding his form fitting boxers up his slim hips, he ignored the other boys chatting, and let his mind wander slightly. Things had been going well in his efforts to lure Longbottom and Granger, and Thomas was coming along nicely as well. All three were starting to look to him as the leader of their little group, helped in no small part by Draco's subtle deference. Crabbe and Goyle were both following him primarily because of Draco, but his helping them with their issues had made inroads towards earning their loyalty to him, independent from the Malfoy heir. It was really just a matter of time and opportunity now for all of them.

The noise of Crabbe and Goyle tousling playfully drew his attention, as did the indignant yelp of Zabini who had been knocked aside by their stocky forms.

Zabini. Now there was a conundrum. The boy was friendly enough, though quieter than the rest of Harry's group. He seemed to prefer to observe, and keep himself a little aloof. From what Harry understood, the boy was from a neutral family, though they had darker leanings if rumour about the boy's mother being a black widow was true. Unfortunately this made it hard for Harry to find an opening he could exploit.

Shaking his head as he buttoned and tucked his shirt, he resolved to put more effort into the boy. There had to be some chink in that infuriatingly polite armour.

The only real problem currently in the Slytherin first year boys was Theodore Nott. The boy was weedy, and looked a little rabbity in features, but he was extremely intelligent and cunning. For all that the boy was a loner, he was an opportunist, provided it didn't mean allying himself with any group in particular. Ordinarily that wouldn't be an issue, and Harry would let him be, but the boy had shown intense dislike for Harry, and kept a constant discrete watch on him. Draco had speculated that he was seeing if Harry was worth befriending, but the dark haired boy suspected something a little more sinister.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry. Here," Draco interrupted his musing, gently pushing Harry's hands out of the way and deftly knotting the tie for him.

"Thanks," Harry grinned sheepishly. "I'm thinking about just leaving it knotted and just loosening it enough to take on and off."

"Probably a good idea," Draco grinned. "Not that I mind doing your tie every morning, but people will start to talk."

Rolling his eyes, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the room, the blond in tow.

"You should be so lucky," he teased.

Draco snorted, but fell silent, walking in companionable silence up to the Great Hall.

The two boys settled at their table, the usual group falling into place around them. Harry smiled slightly when a prefilled plate appeared in front of him, with foods that Marcel had assigned for Harry's meal plan. He knew that Jinky had visited the Hogwarts elves, and passed on Harry's meal requirements after the first week of trying to eat the heavy and greasy fare that Hogwarts usually provided had left him vomiting and clutching his stomach on the bathroom floor. Marcel had been concerned, but the Healer had expressed hope that Harry would grow out of his sensitive stomach as he got older. In the meantime, Harry's meals were very carefully monitored, and a few heavier items added in small amounts every few days to acclimate him to a less stringent diet.

Picking at his mushrooms and wilted baby spinach, his eyes drifted over the hall, absorbing countless details and slotting them neatly into his mental files and plans. He watched as Longbottom received a package containing a small ball that filled with red smoke when the boy held it, but frowned when the red haired brat started mocking the nervous boy. He nudged Draco and nodded discretely to draw his attention to the scene.

Draco glanced up, watching the scene with disgust.

"I see Weasley is as well-mannered as ever," noted Zabini dryly.

The surrounding Slytherins snorted lightly, returning to their breakfasts.

"We'll need to watch him during the flying lesson today. I wouldn't put it past him to try to knock us off our brooms or something equally foolish," the Italian mused, sipping his tea.

"I agree," Harry murmured, taking a bite of his Eggs Benedict, pausing a moment to fully appreciate the perfectly prepared salmon and toasted sourdough. "I've asked Draco to try to keep Granger and Thomas calm, to try to prevent accidents, and I'll do what I can for Longbottom. Would you be willing to keep an eye on Weasley?"

Zabini nodded.

"I think it would be better the other way around though. Granger doesn't really like Draco, and isn't as likely to trust him. Besides, Draco flies better than I do, so if there's trouble he's better able to handle it."

"Alright," Harry hummed, a quick glance at Draco showing his agreement with Zabini's statement. "Is there anything else I should be aware of for this lesson?"

"Old brooms," grunted Goyle around a mouthful of greasy bacon.

"How old," asked Draco warily.

"Ancient," muttered a passing seventh year.

Draco grimaced in distaste.

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. Perhaps this would be an excellent opportunity for Mr Smith to be introduced to the Board of Governors? Given the cost of tuition, it was unlikely that there was insufficient money to replace worn out equipment. A sly smile crept across his face as he began making plans, for once completely oblivious to the fear his expression was inspiring in the people around him.

* * *

Looking around the courtyard, Harry was unsurprised to find all the students automatically separating themselves into houses, even as they stood around waiting for the teacher. A quick motion with his chin had his Slytherins sliding over to the Gryffindors and positioning themselves near their marks. Harry himself moved gracefully into position next to Longbottom, and gave the trembling boy a Reassuring Smile.

"Alright there, Longbottom?" He asked quietly.

The chubby boy glanced at him in surprise.

"Y-yeah, just, you know. I'm going to mess up, I know it!"

"You'll be fine, just breath, ok?" Harry took half a step closer. "Just listen to the teacher, she knows what she's about; and I'll stick next to you, just in case."

Longbottom looked at him with wide eyes.

"You'd really do that?"

Harry nodded and smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Sure I will. What are friends for?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Hooch, the flying instructor. The woman was older, and her silvery grey hair was cut short and spiked up all over her head. Harry suspected that if it was any longer it would be as frizzy and untameable as Grangers. Her yellow hawk-like eyes swept over the class, and she gestured impatiently towards the waiting rows of broomsticks.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Everybody go stand by a broomstick!"

The class quickly moved to their assigned places, and waited for the next instruction.

"Hold your hand up over your broomstick, and say, clearly and firmly, 'up'."

She strode up and down the rows of students, offering encouragement and advice to students who seemed to be struggling.

Harry's broom jumped eagerly into his hand, and he grinned as he noticed Draco, Zabini, and Thomas had managed the same. Granger's wasn't even twitching, while Longbottom's just rolled and jerked slightly on the ground. He nearly laughed out loud when Weasley's flew up and the handle smacked him in the face.

Turning back to Longbottom, he smiled encouragingly.

"Longbottom, relax; take a deep breath. Just breathe. The broom isn't going to hurt you, but you need to be clear and firm. You _command_ it. You'll be Lord Longbottom one day, right? Act like it!"

Longbottom turned wide eyes onto Harry, before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

"Up!" He said firmly.

The broom leapt into his hand, and the boy turned to beam at Harry.

"Great!" Harry enthused, before turning his attention back to Madam Hooch who was now moving on to how to straddle the broom without falling off the end.

The woman eyed Harry, Draco and Zabini with approval as they assumed the proper position, and took the time to help their classmates. She paused long enough to correct Draco's grip, but otherwise offered no comment.

"Alright, when I blow my whistle, I want to you to kick off the ground _hard_ , hover for a few seconds, then return to the ground by leaning forward slightly. On three! One, two-"

Before she could finish, Longbottom had panicked at the thought of being left behind and kicked off early, rising into the air. Terrified, he clutched the broom in a stranglehold, leaning forward in an effort to return to the ground. Unfortunately for him, he'd forgotten the key word, 'slightly'. The broom shot forward, jerking side to side as Longbottom grappled for control.

Harry could hear Madam Hooch shouting and demanding that Longbottom return to the ground _immediately_ , and rolled his eyes. Kicking off the ground, he flew towards the panicking boy, hovering next to him and watching warily.

"Longbottom, it's ok! Relax!" His calls went unheeded, and he was forced to duck out of the way as the out of control broom went careening past, a wailing boy clinging desperately on top of it.

Harry watched helplessly as the broom crashed into the wall, bouncing off it and flipping upside down. Longbottom's hands slipped, and he started to fall, only for his robes to catch on a point of a statue and leave him dangling dangerously high above the grass.

"Whoa! Hang on, Longbottom! I've got you!" Harry manoeuvred underneath the dangling boy, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him onto the broom behind himself. Reaching up, he unhooked the robe from the statue, and began lowering them down.

This plan would have worked quite well, if not for one unfortunate oversight. The school brooms had been described as ancient, but this was generally considered hyperbole, for all that they were _old_. In actual fact, the brooms were approaching one hundred and fifty years old, and the charms on them had gotten a lot of wear over the years. The combined weight of the two boys was the final straw, and the charms failed with an audible snap.

Longbottom yelped as he and Harry immediately plunged toward the ground, his arms snapping painfully tight around Harrys ribs, forcing all the wind out of the poor boy's lungs. A second later, the two children crashed to the ground, Longbottom landing heavily on top of Harry.

Madam Hooch ran over, followed by a gaggle of children who watched with horrified fascination.

Carefully rolling a crying Longbottom off of Harry, she clicked her tongue soothingly at the sight of his obviously broken wrist. Turning her attention to Harry, she paled when he gingerly pushed himself into a kneeling position. His collarbone was broken and sticking out of the skin, blood from the wound staining his shirt and jumper and causing them to plaster themselves to his side. The veins up the side of his neck bulged as he tried to breath, only to cough wetly and clutch his side. Taking in the growing blue tinge to his lips and skin, Hooch was quick to cast a stabilising spell at him, and conjure a stretcher. Gently manoeuvring the suffocating boy onto his back and adding a sticking charm, she levitated the stretcher, and ushered Longbottom along next to it.

"Remain here. I will return shortly, and you had better still all be on the ground when I do! If I catch any of you flying before I get back, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch!" Stalking off, she hurried Harry and Longbottom the short distance to the Hospital Wing.

The remaining children hovered restlessly, unsure of what to do. Draco, Zabini, and the rest of the group Harry was cultivating drew together nervously.

"Do you think he's ok?" Thomas asked quietly.

Draco shrugged helplessly.

"It looked like something was wrong with his ribs, and he couldn't breathe properly," Hermione hugged herself, nibbling on her lip.

The boys looked at her, then exchanged glances. Thomas sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side where she burrowed, shuddering with repressed sobs. Rubbing her arm and shushing her gently, he comforted her the same way he did his little sisters. He shrugged, unconcerned at the raised eyebrows the others gave him.

"Oi, look what the fat squib dropped," crowed Weasley's obnoxious voice from behind them.

Turning, they saw the redhead holding up the ball that Longbottom had received at breakfast.

Hermione bristled, stepping away from Thomas.

"That's Neville's Remembrall! Give it back!"

Weasley laughed, tossing the ball up and down lightly.

"Don't worry, Granger! The butterball's probably forgotten he owns it!"

The other first year Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan, joined Weasley's laughter, ignoring the looks the other houses were shooting them.

The redhead smirked, throwing the ball one more time and snatching it out of the air.

"What do you say I give him a reason to practice flying?" Jumping onto his broom, he kicked off the ground and headed towards the tallest tower, on the other side of the courtyard.

Draco snarled, and grabbed his own broom, furious that the sixth child of a peasant would _dare_ steal from and insult a future lord. That Harry had ordered him to look after the people he was cultivating merely reinforced his need to publicly defend Longbottom.

"Give it back, Weasley!" He shouted, flying after the now scowling redhead with enviable grace.

A flicker of movement on the ground caught his attention, but he focused on his task, ignoring it for the moment.

Weasley turned red with anger, gritting his teeth.

"If you want it so much," he cried, "go get it!"

With that, he hurled the ball as far as he could toward the wall, and dipped the nose of the broom to return to the ground.

Draco growled, and shot off after the ball, weaving easily around Weasley as he tried to get in the way. Pushing the broom harder, he ignored the whining of the straining charms and stretched out a hand, fingers curling around the Remembrall firmly.

Turning smoothly, toes mere inches from the stone wall, he swooped down to the ground, dismounting and striding towards his classmates as if he hadn't just declared to all and sundry that Longbottom was under the protection of Malfoy.

A quick glance showed that all eyes were on him, and all of the more politically aware children were assessing the new information and closely watching what he would do next. Approaching Granger, he calmly held out the ball to her.

"Hermione, would you please give this back to Neville when he gets out of the Hospital Wing?"

Granger blinked, and glanced around at the avidly watching students. Recognising that there was something going on that she didn't fully understand, she did her best to follow the blonde's lead.

"Of course, Draco. Thanks for retrieving it for him."

Taking it, she carefully placed it in her pocket, and looked to the boy for her next cue.

"It was the least I could do," he smiled, and glanced at Zabini.

The Italian stepped forward, gaining her attention and beginning a discussion on tips and tricks for flying, something that Hermione eagerly engaged in, offering up the little facts and recommendations she'd memorized from one book or another.

"Mr Malfoy!" Madam Hooch called sternly, marching towards the group, Snape following behind like an omen of ill fortune. "What is the meaning of this?"

Draco drew himself up, squaring his shoulders.

"When Neville fell, he dropped his Remembrall. Weasley stole it, and was intending to put it up somewhere that Neville wouldn't be able to reach it, given his fear of flying. When I demanded that he return it, he threw it at the wall. Had it impacted, the ball would have smashed. Given that Neville is a friend and ally, I felt it necessary to try to protect his property." Clenching his jaw for a moment, he took a deep breath. "I accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for flying when you'd said not to."

Madam Hooch eyed the boy sharply, thinking. A glance out of the corner of her eye to Snape showed that he was having thoughts along the same line as herself.

"Very well, Mr Malfoy. While this was a foolish stunt that could have ended up with you severely injured, or worse, it's commendable that you were willing to defend a fellow student. As such, I will take ten points from Slytherin for disobeying a teacher and risking your safety, and you will have detention tomorrow night with Professor Snape. I defer to him in regards to any additional punishment he thinks suitable. I will, however, award five points for defending another student, especially one in another house." Turning a glare onto the lanky redhead who was trying to look innocent even as he smirked at Malfoy, she barked out, "Weasley! Don't think you've gotten away with your actions today! Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying a teacher, and another five for stealing and attempting to destroy another students property! You will be doing detention with Mr Filch every night for the next week, and a letter will be sent to your parents about your actions today!"

Turning to the broom that Harry had used to attempt Neville's rescue, she picked it up and examined it closely, flicking her wand over it in a series of identifying and diagnostic spells.

"Professor Snape, will you confirm my findings on this broom, and second my official investigation?" She requested formally.

The dark clad man nodded and stepped forward, casting his own spells over the aged wood.

"Catastrophic failure of the flight and safety charms due to age," he announced quietly.

Hooch huffed angrily, and turned to the class.

"Class dismissed until further notice."

Gathering up the other brooms, she lay them out, tagging each with a number and proceeded to cast the detection spells over each, recording the results on a piece of parchment she had pulled from one of her pockets. Snape began from the other end of the row, scribbling his results on his own piece of parchment.

Draco gathered his group with a glance, nodding when Hermione requested they go to the Hospital Wing to check on Harry.

Their progress was halted when Weasley stepped in front of them, smirking when the rest of the first years stopped to watch the brewing altercation.

"That was very loyal of you, Malfoy; maybe you should have been a Hufflepuff!"

Rolling his eyes, the blonde examined his fingernails in a bored manner.

"That was very witty of you, Weasley; did you pay someone to write it for you? Whose kidney did you sell to get the money?"

Shocked gasps and titters of amusement rippled through the watching students. Ignoring the ever reddening Weasley boy, Draco stepped around him and led his group towards the Hospital Wing, and their leader ensconced within.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The group of worried children arrived quickly at the Hospital Wing, and waited anxiously to the side as they watched Madam Pomphrey work her magic.

"How is he?" Hermione blurted, wringing her hands together and chewing her lip.

"He'll be fine, Miss Granger," the nurse soothed. "He was badly hurt, but I'll have him right as rain in no time. Might I suggest you go and keep Mr Longbottom company if you insist on being here? I haven't been able to see to the poor boy yet, and I'm sure he'd appreciate something to take his mind of his arm."

Nodding, the group migrated to the bed that Neville was laying on and settled themselves around him.

"So, did anything exciting happen after Harry and I left?"

* * *

Despite Neville being released from the Hospital Wing that evening, Harry was kept 'prisoner' for two days before he convinced his medically educated warden that he was well enough to leave, and smart enough to take it easy for a couple more days. Apparently the broken collarbone was easy enough to fix, though the three completely snapped ribs and punctured lung was a little trickier to deal with. In the end the nurse had been forced to vanish the ribs entirely and regrow them; an experience that Harry was more than happy to avoid repeating in the future, for all that he'd been through much worse.

In the time before his release, he'd sent word to his men via a message delivered by his frantic puma, and begun manoeuvring his Smith golem into position to replace someone on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Lucius Malfoy had been invaluable in that regard, his role as Chairman of the Board allowing him to push through "Mr Smith's" complaints about the investigation that Hooch and Snape had done after the incident being buried by Dumbledore. That the Headmaster would not only bury the investigation, but claim that there was insufficient funds available to replace the brooms had the Board in a lather, and based on Lucius's reports, the meetings were devolving into a small scale civil war.

Personally, Harry was content to sit back and watch the chaos; though he contemplated having Lucius leak the information the press if it looked to be dragging on too long, just to keep things interesting. Perhaps that Skeeter woman would like to do a piece about how the safety of the children was suspect if the near death of both the Heir Longbottom and Heir Potter, never mind the fact that one was The-Boy-Who-Lived, was such a low priority. The only downside to that of course was that it might encourage people to start poking around more in Hogwarts itself, and that would make recovering Flamel's stone more difficult.

Harry lagged behind as everyone packed up after Potions. Waving Draco and Zabini off, he slowly tidied up his work station and waited for the other students to leave.

"Is there something you needed, Mr Potter?" Snape sneered.

"Sir, do you know the charm for duplicating documents? The proper one, not the _Geminio_ cop out." He looked up guilelessly, pulling a small brown leather bound book from his satchel and approaching the desk at the front of the room.

"And why would you need something like that?" Snape asked coolly, eyeing the boy with suspicion.

"Because I found my mother's diaries in the family vault, and there's something that I think you'll find particularly interesting in this one. I thought you might like a copy, since I plan to return the original to the vault for safe keeping. I knew you wouldn't trust it unless you perform the charm yourself." He offered the book, watching silently as the still suspicious man carefully took it and flipped through the pages, noting how Snape's eyes softened slightly at the familiar handwriting. His theory was correct, it seemed.

With one last suspicious look at the silent eleven year old, Snape withdrew some blank parchment and placed it on the desk next to the book. Tapping the book and then parchment, he muttered a quick _Geminio Scriptum Ipse_ , and watched impassively as the blank pages filled with writing. Waiting until the ink had stopped running across the page, he tossed a quick book binding charm to keep it organised, and handed the original back to Harry.

Snatching up his copy, he strode toward his office, not even pausing long enough to thank the child who had given him something more precious than he could possibly imagine.

* * *

Harry and Warthog were sitting quietly in the courtyard, curled up in a convenient alcove. It had become one of their favourite places to sit, given that it had a perfect view of the surrounding area while keeping them mostly concealed. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds, golden patches of sunlight making patterns on the stone.

Technically speaking, he should have been in charms, they were attempting the Levitation Charm for the first time today, but instead he'd gone to the Hospital Wing and conned a Headache Draft from the nurse, and been instructed to go back to his dorm to rest. He hadn't been ill in the slightest, and he was sure that she knew that, but he was desperate to take some time to himself and relax with his sketch pad. Since arriving at Hogwarts, he'd been working nonstop and was only averaging two or three hours sleep most nights. Even though he spaced his visits home throughout the week, he still had reports and plans to review, things that the Smith golem couldn't handle. As useful as it was, it wasn't a perfect substitute.

The chatter of approaching students drew his attention, and he idly watched them milling around and enjoying the weak sunshine before heading back inside for lunch.

"'It's Levi- _oh_ -sa, not Levi-oh- _sah_ '," a high pitched falsetto mocked. "Honestly, she's a nightmare! It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends! I bet those Slytherins just get her to do their homework for them!"

Harry scowled as he watched Weasley and Finnigan smirk when an obviously upset Hermione rushed past them, clutching her books to her chest defensively.

Standing, he took a step forward to involve himself in the situation, when Neville - who had insisted on Harry using his first name after saving his life from the homicidal broomstick - squared up to the two Gryffindors.

"That was uncalled for," the mousy boy stated quietly. His shoulders were squared, and this obvious shift in demeanour drew the attention of all the surrounding students. "Hermione has many friends, and was only trying to help you."

Weasley sneered, puffing up and trying to intimidate Neville back into his usual timid persona.

"Like I would want the help of a traitor like her? And it's no wonder you're standing up for her, after all, everyone knows you're in Malfoy's pocket now. You're no better than she is, consorting with Snakes!"

Neville's face darkened, taking on a more mature cast.

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Weasley, before someone puts their fist in it."

"Oh yeah? What, afraid to use a wand like a real wizard, are you? Or is it you lack the power? You're barely more than a squib after all!"

Neville scoffed, surprising the observers.

"As if you know anything about being a real wizard. You can't even cast a Levitation Charm without Hermione's help! As for my power, you seem to forget that not all power is about magic. I am the sole Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, and Hermione Granger is under my Protection. If you hurt or insult her again, then I will exercise every right to recompense available to me under the Old Laws. I will _ruin_ you and your family for generations to come. You will not be warned again, and rest assured that your family will be notified of this conversation."

With a subtle flourish, Neville turned on his heel and strode away after Hermione, leaving a roar of shocked students discussing the incident and dissecting how this changed the political dynamic of the school.

Harry watched Neville stalk off, and allowed a small smile to creep across his face. Well now, wasn't that interesting.

* * *

Dinner that night was a raucous affair. Not only was it the Halloween Feast, but news of House Longbottom taking a no name muggleborn under their Protection had the school in an uproar.

Harry picked at his food, mulling over the situation. He hadn't anticipated Neville making a move like this; apparently his urging to act more like the future Lord Longbottom had had more of an impact than he'd anticipated. Still, while he hadn't decided for certain that he was going to keep Hermione around, he could work with this. Between the girls insatiable need to know everything, and the Longbottom's resources, perhaps he could manipulate her into a position in the Ministry of Magic. Which branch would bear further thought, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to get someone into the Unspeakables. He hadn't managed to get anyone even close to that department yet.

He nodded absently to Draco's quiet comments about how a crying Hermione had locked herself in the girls bathroom and refused to come out yet, and allowed his eyes to drift over the student body and then up to Snape.

The man was sitting quietly, obviously deep in thought despite keeping a careful watch over his Slytherins. Harry smiled to himself; obviously he'd been reading the copy of Lily's diary. It would be interesting to see how the man reacted when he got to the good part.

Any further conversation came to a screeching halt as Quirrel ran into the Great Hall, his face flushed with panic and exertion. Breathlessly, he shouted.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeon! I thought you ought to know…" Collapsing into a dead faint, he landed with a thud in front of the teachers table.

There was a moment of pregnant silence, before students and teachers alike began panicking, standing and starting to shove past each other in an effort to get out the door.

Standing, Dumbledore fired off a few sparks and bangs from his wand to get everyone's attention.

"Silence! Prefects, please escort your Houses back to your dormitories; Professors, if you will please follow me."

Harry stared after the retreating teachers, gobsmacked.

"Is he serious?" He hissed angrily. "A troll in the dungeon, and he sends literally half the student population down there without even a fully trained adult to escort us? Why did he not keep us here and do a head count, reinforcing the door while they hunted down the troll? Is he _trying_ to kill us?!"

Draco gave him a nervous look.

"Harry, what about Hermione? She doesn't know!"

Harry's Slytherins stiffened, and looked to Harry for instructions. Before he could open his mouth, Neville and Thomas ran over, looking frantic.

"Hermione!" Neville gasped, Thomas nodding frantically behind him.

Harry lightly touched Neville's arm, calming him.

"Neville, try to catch up with McGonagall and let her know, if you can't find her immediately, return to your common room. Thomas, notify a prefect. Both of you keep an eye out for her along the way and once you get back to the common room - we don't want her to arrive and be overlooked."

The two boys nodded and hurried off to follow their instructions. Harry turned back to his Slytherins.

"Zabini, prefect. Tell them Draco and I have gone to notify the teachers of a missing student and will return as soon as we're done. Then I want you, Crabbe, and Goyle listen to the gossip. Try to find out if anyone knows more than they should. Draco, with me."

Splitting up, Harry and Draco quickly left from the group and disappeared down the hallway.

The halls echoed slightly with their footsteps as they made their way toward the bathroom Hermione was obliviously hiding in.

"Not looking for teachers, then?" Draco ventured.

"Not unless we bump into them on the way," Harry replied calmly. "We find Hermione, and stay put until the all clear is given. I have no doubt that someone released it on purpose, and are probably making an attempt for the item 'hidden' on the third floor right now. I just hope that the protections on the stone are sufficient to deter them for the moment. I'll be most displeased if someone gets it before I do."

Draco nodded, glancing around warily.

A shrill scream from the bathroom had both boys breaking into a run, pausing just short of the door to assess the situation. Hermione was cowering in the corner under the sinks, while a twelve foot tall Mountain Troll towered above her, and swung a knotted tree that served as a club threateningly at her.

"Get Hermione clear," Harry ordered, then picked up a lump of broken porcelain and hurled it at the creatures head, mentally reviewing what little he knew about Trolls. He shouted loudly, waving his arms and hurling anything he could lay hands on to distract the beast, while Draco slipped past and grabbed Hermione, yanking her unceremoniously to her feet and looking for any chance to get them clear without getting stepped on or chased.

There were a few Dark and illegal spells that Harry knew would pierce a Trolls hide, but they were very high level spells that he wouldn't be able to explain being able to perform, even if he _did_ manage to avoid getting arrested for using them.

Deciding not to risk it, Harry quickly tapped a button on his cuff, and grabbed the 'tweaked' taser that Shot had given him as a joke. She'd claimed that she'd 'made it less wimpy' and that it would 'turn those fuckers to charcoal'. Dashing forward, he jabbed it against the back of the troll's knee, shouting all the while to keep its attention on him. He saw Draco try to dodge past and to the door, but Hermione was so terrified that she couldn't move, slowing the blond to the point of ineffectiveness.

The taser did its work in terms of keeping the trolls attention exclusively on him, but otherwise did little more than give the hulking monstrosity a mild burn the size of Harry's head.

Harry yelped as a huge wart ridden hand wrapped around his leg, hauling him to the monsters face to dangle upside down. He could see Hermione draw breath and open her mouth to scream, and was infinitely grateful to Draco for slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her. The last thing he needed was the idiot girl drawing the trolls attention when it was finally focused on Harry. Unfortunately, Draco and Hermione were pinned in a corner, unable to escape without the troll being attracted to the movement. Giving a mental shrug, Harry twisted and bared his teeth to Draco in a manic grin.

"Plan B!" He shouted, and tapped his cuff.

Tightening his abs, he pulled himself up and jammed the taser in the bulbous watery eyeball, depressing the trigger. As the troll roared in pain and reared back, Harry pushed the button on the device in his hand, and tossed the small canister into the gaping mouth.

In its fury and pain, the troll let go of Harry's leg, causing him to drop painfully to the floor. He curled around his still tender ribs, and wrapped an arm around his head. Two seconds later there was a muffled wet pop, and splattered gore rained down on the three children like a scarlet meat based rain shower.

Glancing up, Harry began to scramble over toward Draco and Hermione, slipping gracelessly in the gore. Behind him, the trolls headless body began to topple slowly, before landing on the floor with a meaty, bone shaking thud, just barely missing Harry's foot.

Dragging himself gingerly to his feet, Harry looked down at himself with disgust. He was coated in rank smelling blood, his hair plastered to his head with it and peppered liberally with bone and brain fragments.

"I'll never get this clean," he moaned quietly. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he began dabbing ineffectually at the front of his shirt.

Draco might have voiced some sort of snarky reply, however Hermione currently had her arms in a death grip around his neck, sobbing hysterically. The Malfoy heir was simultaneously attempting to comfort her, and pull her arms away long enough to draw breath. This unfortunate attempt at multitasking left him flailing wildly and making choking noises as his face became progressively redder.

This bizarre scene was what greeted Professors Dumbledore, Snape, Quirrel and McGonagall as they rushed into the bathroom, presumably following the sounds of Troll Screams and property damage.

"My goodness!" McGonagall gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

The teachers took in the destroyed bathroom, noting the headless body and blood spatter coating every surface.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore twinkled. "Would you mind explaining how you came to be here with the troll in this state?"

Heaving a sigh and ignoring the twinge it caused his ribs, Harry looked up at the Headmaster with a carefully bland expression.

"Well, Headmaster, it's rather simple really. Hermione wasn't at the Feast due to Weasley being a twat earlier in the day, therefore she didn't know about the troll. So I told Neville and Thomas to notify the Gryffindor prefects that she was missing, and if possible find you, Professor McGonagall, to let you know. Zabini was letting the Slytherin perfect know that Draco and I were going to find the teachers and have you escort Hermione and ourselves to whichever common room was closest, since we would be likely to find where she was faster than someone who didn't know her as well. Along the way, we heard a scream and ran in to see that the troll had Hermione cornered and was about to crush her. I distracted the troll while Draco tried to get Hermione clear but the troll managed to grab me. My father had given me something to use if I ever felt my life was threatened, and so I threw it in the trolls mouth. I wasn't expecting it to make such a mess." He looked around appraisingly. "Poor Filch is going to have a seizure."

Dumbledore sighed, and gave Harry a disappointed look.

"Harry, while I applaud your defence of Miss Granger, was it necessary to kill the beast?"

Biting the inside of his lip hard to stifle the urge to roll his eyes, Harry glanced at the Headmaster from the corner of his eye, then returned to his useless dabbing with the now thoroughly soaked handkerchief.

"Well," he quipped dryly, "I invited it for a cup of tea and some crumpets, but it wasn't interested; and I'm afraid I don't take rejection well."

Snape made an odd choking noise that Harry decided was a swallowed snort of amusement. Progress!

Dumbledore's disappointed look intensified.

"It is the mark of a great wizard who is able to offer mercy to even the greatest of foes."

Harry levelled a flat look at the man.

"Headmaster, I do hope you're not implying that I should have spared the life of a Ministry Classified XXXX Creature that was actively attempting to kill and eat three of your _eleven year old_ students. Though while we're on the topic, might I ask why when you were informed of the troll, you decided to send literally half the student population to the last place it was spotted, without even a single adult to escort and defend them? From what I understood when I read Hogwarts: A History, and the school Handbook, in times of emergency all students are to congregate in the Great Hall since it's more easily defensible." He looked up at the Headmaster with a carefully innocent expression, head tilted questioningly.

Behind Dumbledore, both Snape and McGonagall jerked slightly, as they realised what a precarious position they'd inadvertently put their students in.

"That is an excellent question, Mr Potter," Snape spoke up, surprising everyone present. "Ten points for questioning dangerous instructions, and another ten points for using your head in an emergency."

A moment passed while everyone stared at the normally acidic man, before McGonagall roused herself, not to be outdone.

"Fifteen points to both yourself and Mr Malfoy for coming to the aid of a student in another House," then, with a look of distaste at the headless corpse, "And another ten points to you, Mr Potter, for sheer dumb luck!" Drawing herself up, she brushed her robes down primly. "Now, all three of you will be escorted to the Hospital Wing so that Madam Pomphrey can check you over, and you will explain to me what Mr Weasley has to do with Miss Grangers unfortunate location this evening."

Anything Dumbledore might have said in response was ignored as McGonagall and Snape both swept from the room, ushering the blood soaked children ahead of them. Sighing, the old man began the trek to his office, intending to notify the students that all was now well.

Quirrel, forgotten in the bathroom, eyed the troll corpse thoughtfully.

* * *

_Lily Potter's Diary_

_August 1st, 1980_

_Yesterday, I gave birth to my son, Harry James Potter; and while I will never regret bearing my child, the rest of my world is in ashes. What should have been a joyous time is tainted by the realisation that James is not the man I thought he was. This morning I was informed that now that I had provided him an heir, there was no need to continue with the love potion that he'd been slipping me since seventh year._

_I don't know what to do. We're in hiding under the Fidelis charm due to a prophecy that says that Harry might be the one who can defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and between my forced isolation and James gradually distancing me from any old friends that might have been able to help me, I'm trapped. It's been made abundantly clear that I'm disposable, and that now I've delivered a healthy heir, any 'misbehaviour' on my part will be dealt with harshly. In public I am to play the perfect loving wife and mother. At home I will care for Harry but leave any actual child rearing to James and Sirius, so that he won't be tarnished by my 'muggleborn nonsense'. If it wasn't for Remus, I'm sure I would have 'died in childbirth'. While Sirius is right there with James, fully aware and complicit with my husband's actions, I've taken to thinking of Remus as my Guardian Angel. He doesn't seem aware of the actions of James and Sirius, and cares for Harry and I as gently as if we were his own. If he wasn't so obviously in love with Sirius, I'd wonder at his feelings for me. Sadly for him, I'm almost completely certain that James and Sirius are… well. That's neither here nor there, really._

_As I look back over my past, I can't help but think about Severus. I miss him…_

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Lily Potter's Diary_

_January 12, 1981_

_My life is a nightmare. James and Sirius don't even bother to try to hide their relationship anymore, unless Remus or Peter are around. I've taken to listening at doorways before walking into a room, just to avoid getting an eyeful of things I'd rather not see._

_I never thought that I would be so cowardly, but there's nothing I can do to retaliate against James if he decides to do something against me; the Family Magic won't allow me to do anything to harm the Head. He, however, could easily decide to dispose of me, or lock me away. I can't do anything that will risk Harry being taken away from me. I'll endure anything I have to in order to stay with and protect my son._

_I've retreated into my own little world, just to give myself hope. I imagine that I listened when Severus tried to apologise in fifth year (something I've genuinely regretted for a long time - curse my pride and stubbornness), and we continued in the way I'd hoped our relationship was heading before that horrible day. I imagine that our wedding was small and intimate rather than the circus James insisted on; and we had a cottage on the moors with a little orchard and vegetable garden, and maybe a greenhouse for Sev's potions ingredients. In my dream, Harry is his, and he loves us both dearly. I imagine that James and Sirius, hell, maybe even Dumbledore (I don't trust that he didn't have something to do with all this, though I have no evidence) kidnapped us, and Harry and I are just waiting for Severus to come rescue his family._

_I know that I'm fooling myself, but my fantasies are the only thing keeping me sane right now…_

Severus stared into the fire pensively, the copied diary resting on his lap. He wasn't sure how to feel. The idea of his Lily sitting in the nursery with an infant Harry while thinking these things left him… He wasn't sure. Bitter? Wistful? Angry? All of the above, and a few more for good measure, perhaps.

How was he supposed to react? It was obvious that this was the part that Potter had intended him to read, but why? The boy already had an adopted father, and didn't seem to be wanting Severus to fill that role. Just what was the boy's game?

Standing, he pulled a robe over his pants and linen shirt. He needed to walk while he thought about this.

* * *

Connor was bouncing in excitement as he waited for his Sir.

He'd been asleep the last few times Harry had visited, but he'd been told that this visit was specifically to spend time with him, no work allowed. He'd had a nap earlier in the day, and was now wide awake so that he'd be ready to do some stargazing, just like he and Sir used to do sometimes before Harry had to go away to school.

Seeing the older boy appear, he threw himself into Sir's arms, smiling widely.

"You're here!" He crowed, dancing around and pulling on Harry's captured hand.

"I am," Harry agreed with a tolerant smile, green eyes softening at his boy's exuberance.

"I had a nap today, and I ate all my dinner, and I did all my homework like Alex said I had to, and Sergei let me off training for the day so I wouldn't be too tired tonight, and Shot played checkers with me, and I drew you a picture, see?" Connor brandished a piece of paper in Harry's face, then whisked it away again before he could actually get a look at it. "And I've been practicing my piano every day for at least an hour, even when I'm really tired! And I've been spending time with the Ghosts and Nestlings and helping Elise with her dancing, because she _hates_ that, and I've been spending some time with Lizzie in the garage, she's nearly finished rebuilding the engine of her car, how cool is _that_?"

Connor continued to babble away, bouncing around Harry as he walked them out to the back lawn.

The elves had maintained the lawn with their usual attention to detail, the grass perfectly manicured and the flowers delicately scenting the night air. There weren't as many as usual, given that it was approaching winter, but what few were blooming were beautiful to see.

The boy beamed when Harry cast a warming charm on him, making sure to bundle him up in a warm jacket and blanket before they settled on the rug spread on the lawn.

Connor settled with his head next to his Sir, their feet in opposite directions. Sighing happily, he listened as the older boy began pointing out constellations, and told him stories about each of them. Sir always told the best stories.

* * *

Harry was sitting in the Great Hall, picking disinterestedly at some scrambled eggs and toast. His sleep deprivation and near constant use of potions to keep himself alert and functioning was playing havoc with his appetite. Sighing, he left his fork on the plate and discretely pulled the vial of diluted venom from his pocket, dropping the required dose into his goblet of water. He watched as Draco did the same, sipping at the cool liquid.

"What was that?" Zabini - Blaise, Harry corrected himself - asked.

"What was what?" Draco blinked.

Blaise gave him a withering look.

"The potion you just put in your goblet. Harry had some too. What is it?"

Harry shrugged, and forked a small bite of eggs into his mouth.

"It's an immune booster my Healer wanted me to take. Someone tried to poison me before I came here, and it did some damage. My Healer suggested Draco take some too, since it wouldn't hurt, and it might help if someone tried to poison me again since Draco's so close to me all the time, you know?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head.

"Is it likely that people around you will be hurt?"

Harry could see the other Slytherins listening closely, even as they pretended they weren't.

"Not likely, no, but it's possible. On my own, my fame makes me a target in this world, but in the muggle world people try to use me to get to my father. He's really paranoid, and super protective of me, so things like immune boosters are pretty much par for the course. Including Draco is just his way of showing he cares."

He could see the others processing this, and adjusting their mental notes and plans accordingly. Before anyone could question him further, the morning post began flooding into the hall with a flurry of feathers and hooting.

He was surprised when he saw Minerva swoop down towards him, landing lightly on his shoulder. Glaring around the table she gave a haughty hoot and stuck out her leg imperiously.

Draco offered her a full rasher of bacon while Harry untied the letter and slipped it into the inner breast pocket of his robes. Pulling his hand back quickly when she snapped the meat from his fingers, the blond edged away slightly. He'd been trying to win her affections, or at least tolerance since first being introduced to her, but she was unusually stubborn in her dislike of pretty much everybody.

"Dude, what's up with your owl?" Blaise eyed her warily. "It's gorgeous, but it looks like it's about to give me detention or something."

Harry shrugged his free shoulder casually.

"Like all owls, she's a flying pillow of seething hatred; she's just more obvious about it. As for looking like she'll give you detention, that's why her name is Minerva McGonagowl." He smirked when several upper years choked, or snorted into their goblets.

A muffled cough behind him let him know that Professor Snape had passed by, just in time to hear his comment. Oops.

"Mr Potter," the Potions Master drawled, "please come and see me after your classes today."

Harry nodded respectfully.

"Do I need to bring anything with me, Sir?"

"No, I merely wished to follow up on our last discussion."

"I see," Harry nodded, green eyes observing the dour Professor carefully. "I'll be there about fifteen minutes after classes end. Is that acceptable?"

Receiving a curt nod, Harry turned back to his breakfast, mind racing as he tried to plan ahead for as many potential outcomes as possible. This should prove to be _interesting_.

* * *

Harry was walking down the hall after Charms, heading back to the dorms to drop off his bag before going to see Snape as requested.

He'd begged off study group, claiming that he didn't know how long the meeting would take, but encouraged the others to meet and work together regardless. He'd been surprised when Neville had stepped up, rounding up the other Gryffindor's and ushering them to the library ahead of the Slytherins. Though given that Weasley and Finnigan had been in fine form today, it might have been his way of getting Hermione and Dean away from them before the muggleborn girl snapped and slugged the redhead in the face. Judging by her stormy expression, it might have been closer than anyone had realised.

Seeing the more interesting of the Weasley children ahead of him, he quickened his pace, and called out.

"Weasley's! Might I have a moment of your time?"

The twins turned to look at him, identical smirks sliding across their faces.

"Well, if it isn't-"

"The ickle Potter! What-"

"Can we do for-"

"One so illustrious as-"

"Yourself?" They traded off, finishing together.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Just for the record, that doesn't work on me; I can tell the two of you apart. But there was a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a minute?"

"Nobody can-"

"Tell us apart." The twins scoffed.

"Not even our own mother."

Harry pointed at the twin on his left.

"You're Fred," and the twin on his right, "and you're George."

The twins blinked in surprise, then bent at the waist to lean uncomfortably close to Harry's face, examining him with fascination.

"How can you tell?" They demanded in unison.

Harry raised an eyebrow and flicked them both in the forehead, causing them to rear back.

"Sorry, but you were sucking the oxygen right out of my personal space. Anyway, it's easy to tell you apart if you actually take the time to look; not even identical twins are ever _really_ identical. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Have you noticed the way your youngest brother has been acting towards Hermione, Neville, and Dean? Not to mention Draco and Blaise."

The twins nodded, dropping the playful air.

"We have. We've also seen and heard-"

"What he's been doing to you. We've-"

"Got to say, you have more-"

"Patience than we would in-"

"Your situation."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"I understand that this might be putting you in a difficult position, but I thought it only fair to warn you that he's crossing dangerous lines. His comments and actions caused Hermione to be nearly killed by a troll, and he's come dangerously close to causing insult to four Ancient and Noble Houses, and that's not even factoring in that Hermione is under the protection of House Longbottom. I understand that he's only eleven, but if he doesn't pull his head in, he's going to end up disgracing your family name, and that will affect the rest of you. I've seen your older brother call him on it when he overhears something, but I was hoping that if you were to support Percy in that it might be enough to get through to Ron? And where he goes, Finnigan will follow."

The twins frowned, glancing at each other.

"There really isn't-"

"Much we can do-"

"But we'll try. You-"

"Said you have a couple-"

"Of things you wanted-"

"To talk about? What-"

"Else was there?"

Harry glanced at his watch, he was cutting it close.

"I have a study group, I'm sure you've heard Ron ranting about it; I'd like to invite you to join us. Cedric Diggory has said he might join us too, but I think he's reluctant since there isn't anyone closer to his age in the group. That said, I checked your rankings and saw that you were both struggling a little with Herbology. Neville's a genius at that, and could probably help you if you're willing. We all help each other, and study ahead, as well as any supplementary topics that catch our interest."

The twins considered him thoughtfully.

"You checked our rankings?" They asked.

"Sounds like-"

"You're scouting-"

"Us for something!"

Harry blinked, blasé.

"I am."

Leaving the dumbfounded twins staring after him, Harry made his way down the hallway and into the dungeons. He'd already determined that the twins wouldn't fall for his usual manipulations, much like Blaise wouldn't. In both cases, he'd need to be more direct. Still, he could work with that; having intelligent minions might be a little more work, but at least they were capable of independent action when it was needed. It was just a matter of winning their loyalty, and then _keeping_ it.

Another glance at his watch had him turning towards Snape's office, rather than the dorms. He hadn't factored a conversation with the twins into his time estimate, and he didn't want to be late.

Knocking on the door, he waited until he heard the invitation to enter, and opened the door. Stepping through, he nodded a greeting to the older man.

"Did you want the door open or closed for this conversation?" He asked politely.

"Closed, if you please, Mr Potter." Snape said. "This is a highly private conversation and I'd rather not risk it being overheard."

Nodding, Harry quietly shut the door and walked over to the desk.

Harry slowly drew his wand, making sure to not point it anywhere near the suddenly tense man opposite.

"May I cast a few privacy charms? I find it never hurts to be careful."

Snape nodded in agreement, and cast a few of his own once Harry was finished.

He waited until Snape invited him to sit, and settled himself regally in the chair, hands folded comfortably over his stomach. He waited.

Snape studied the boy for a long moment.

"Tea?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"Yes, please." He watched as Snape summoned an elf, then poured the tea once the little creature had returned with a tray almost bigger than it was. Like most elves, it had over catered, adding scones and clotted cream, a little pot of strawberry jam, a plate of assorted biscuits, and some little triangle sandwiches with the crusts removed. Harry couldn't tell what the fillings were, but it looked like an assortment of cucumber, egg salad, and salmon.

"How do you like it?"

"Black, one sugar, thank you."

Harry took the offered tea cup, along with the plate that Snape had filled with a sampling of the treats. He placed the plate on the front edge of the desk and sipped his tea. He let the silence draw out, both men sipping their drinks while they observed each other.

Eventually Snape realised that Harry wasn't going to be drawn, and sighed, setting his cup and saucer down.

"I read the diary," he began. "I'm not entirely certain what you hoped to achieve."

Harry shrugged, nibbling on a sandwich.

"In all honesty, not much. I'd been looking for a reason for your animosity towards me, with a mind to either mitigate or eradicate the cause. I'd heard that you were on a similar intellectual level to me, and I was hoping to find a way for us to be conversant, even if being friends wasn't a possibility. Your comment about my eyes led me to believe I might find the source of friction between us in my mother's journals. While I'm still unsure of what the problem is exactly, I thought you might find the contents of that journal interesting. And so, here we are." He sipped his tea.

Snape chewed his own sandwich slowly, considering the boy's words.

"The problem is your resemblance to your father. James Potter was a bully of the worst sort, along with his group of friends. They called themselves The Marauders." He sneered, remembering.

"Ah," Harry nodded. "I see. I gathered from Lily's journals that the two of you were rather close at one point, but something happened - I don't know the details - that caused a falling out. Your almost girlfriend taking up with your bully would understandably cause some friction, especially when you're confronted with the spawn of that union. Doubly so, considering the resemblance to the unpleasant side of that relationship."

"Quite," Snape murmured.

Silence fell once more, broken only by an offer and acceptance of a tea refill.

"Professor," Harry mused, "may I be blunt?"

Snape nodded.

"My father researched all of the staff at Hogwarts thoroughly before I ever set foot on the grounds. I was given a brief overview of the main players here, and your name was brought to my attention as more than a fellow super brain." He smirked at Snape's huff at the description. "It seems to me that you're trapped here, with your talents wasted. I can only assume that it has something to do with the prophecy and your former service to the Dark Lord. Oh, don't look so surprised. The former was written out in full in Lily's diary, and the latter is not as well buried as you might hope, if one knows where to look. For the record, I don't care." He paused to sip his tea and let Snape process the shock of having his secrets discussed so openly. "I theorize that you were pressed into working at Hogwarts at Dumbledore's request, supposedly to position you so that if the Dark Lord returns, you'll be perfectly placed to spy? I'll leave out _who_ you're spying for, since again, I really don't care. You could work for either or both, it doesn't make a difference. Am I right?" He waited until Snape grudgingly nodded, then smiled, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "How would you like to be free of all that?"

Snape eyed the boy warily.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Firstly, regardless of any other offers I make, I would like to extend a formal apology as Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, for the actions of James Potter against Severus Snape, then Heir, now Head of the Noble House of Prince. As compensation, House Potter will offer private funding for potions research for the duration of Severus Snape's lifetime, to a value of fifty thousand Galleons per annum."

Snape found himself gaping, and quickly snapped his mouth shut. Even the Minister of Magic only made twenty thousand Galleons per annum. Well, before bribes, at least.

"House Prince accepts your apology and offer of compensation." He bowed his head slightly, feeling lighter than he had in years. His treatment at the hands of Potter had been a large source of bitterness and anger for him for a long time, and to finally have his suffering acknowledged… He took a deep breath, allowing the magics of the Potter and Prince families to sooth the hurts that had festered for so long. The formal apology offered from a Head of House, and the acceptance of such, wouldn't allow for any anger over that issue to linger. It was quite literally over and done with, provided Potter kept to the terms of the compensation. A compensation which was beyond generous, if he was being honest.

"What did you mean by any other offers? What more could you possibly offer?"

"Would you like a way out from under Dumbledore's thumb, and possibly the Dark Lord's as well?"

Severus blinked. In all of his wildest imaginings, he'd never anticipated something like that.

"Explain."

"I can set up a new identity for you. Papers, history, appropriate qualifications, and bank accounts. I can also arrange for any additional training you might like your new identity to have, as well as any physical adjustments to help conceal your identity. If you want, that can be the end of it. Alternatively, you, or your new identity, can work for me."

Severus choked on his scone, coughing roughly.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? For a moment I thought you offered me a job."

Harry smiled serenely.

"Why in Merlins name would you offer me a job? And doing what?"

"I assume you're familiar with the names Alexander Charleston, Sergei Petrikov, and Marcel Blanca?"

"Yes?" Snape responded, feeling a little faint.

"They work for me. As for what you would be doing, that's entirely up to you. I have a large network, I'm sure we can find something that interests you. It's in no way mandatory, I might add. You're in no way obligated to join my network, though I think you'd enjoy many of the benefits."

"Nobody offers something like this without expecting something in exchange, and I don't mean the job offer. What do you want?"

Harry grinned. "I knew I'd like you once we got all that awkward teenage trauma out of the way. The Potter family will sponsor your new future, either directly or through another name if you don't wish to be associated. We will fund you, support you, provide you with everything you could ever need to do what you do best; develop new potions and spells. And all I want in exchange is one percent of the royalties, for as long as you are accepting our patronage. Obviously, should you choose to leave our sponsorship behind, we will retain the one percent of any royalties you earned on potions or spells while under it, just not anything you develop after that. I think that's more than reasonable, don't you?"

A pregnant silence fell, while Snape tried to wrap his mind around the offer, and find any loopholes in it that might be used to trap him the way Dumbledore had. He couldn't find any.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Why would Petrikov and Charleston work for you? Or Blanca, for that matter? What do you have them doing?"

Harry smiled enigmatically.

"Ah, but that would be telling," he put his cup down, and stood, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. Pulling out a business card, he placed it face down on the desk, exactly halfway between them. "If you decide you're interested in the job, the contact details are on the card. If you decide you only want help escaping the various pinning thumbs, owl me a Thornapple flower. I'll have someone contact you to negotiate details."

" _Datura stramonium_?" Snape smirked. "How apt."

Harry smirked back.

"I thought so."

Grabbing a handful of leftover biscuits, he dispelled the privacy charms with a flick of his wand, winked, and strolled from the room as if he hadn't just turned a man's world upside down.

It wasn't until ten minutes later than Snape realised that he'd never even gotten around to the real reason he'd asked Harry to come see him.

* * *

Harry portkeyed into the open stone courtyard at Sanctuary and took a deep breath of the cool air. As much as he liked Fortress, Sanctuary was home. The black and white river stones crunched and clinked underfoot as he made his way inside, the wards and defences built into them licking at his magic and retreating once they recognised him. Narcissa had put in some basic security, but Alex and Sergei had turned the stonework into a death-trap for anyone not authorised.

Warthog prowled beside him, silent for once. She could feel his tension, and recognised that now was not the time for quips and snark. Tonight, Vahan was all business.

Shot and his Hounds were sitting at the dining table, the men watching Shot devour yet another sugar loaded concoction that would send anyone else into a diabetic coma. Harry glanced at it and wrinkled his nose, electing to get straight to business.

Waving a piece of parchment, he walked into his office, his people following him obediently.

"I got your letter," he sat in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. "How bad is it?"

Alex grimaced.

"Not as bad as it could be, but worse than we'd like. This new cell of Acolytes seems to be more effective than the last. Whoever is organising them has gotten some good intel, and knows what to do with it."

"Who're they targeting this time?"

"Still you. It would appear that if one cell fails, the next picks up where they left off. They nearly got their hands on Bobby and his gang, but Dudley of all people managed to do them enough damage for the rest to get away. He landed himself in hospital in the process, but luckily some kindly passer-by types called an ambulance and the police before the Acolytes could disappear with him. They got away, but they didn't get anyone to torture for info. We've already taken care of the police reports, and paid the appropriate people to get Dudley the best care possible. He has a private room, and we've arranged for guards to stay with him around the clock; discretely, of course. Bobby has recommended that once he's finished with any physio he needs and is back in form that he be elevated to 2IC. Apparently he's knuckled down and is showing more brains that we thought the brawn contained."

Harry waved a hand dismissively.

"I don't care about that. I assigned you two to look after all those little details, and I trust you to do your jobs. What do we know about this Acolyte cell? Shot?"

Shot paused to swallow a mouthful of her drink, and set it aside. Pulling out a folder, she handed it over, the Hounds pulling out their own copies that she'd given them earlier.

"I managed to track a location through CCTV, which was _not_ easy. I finally pinned them down entering Godstone, Surrey. A bit more digging got us a location; they aren't holing up in a church this time, but a small farm on the outskirts of town. This lot seem a bit more cultish than the ones we've encountered before, but overall I'd rank them as more of a threat. I don't have confirmed numbers, there aren't any cameras with enough proximity, and these guys aren't really advertising their presence. They're almost entirely off the grid, which is problematic. The only way we'll confirm numbers is to get eyes on. I'll keep trying, but I've pretty much tapped out until I get some names to hunt down." She fell silent, chewing her lip as she flicked through her folder again.

"So what you're telling me is that we have a location but no names, numbers, or usable intel unless we put someone in?" Harry's face was tight, displeasure radiating from every pore. "Do we have anyone in the area? I can't imagine sending strangers into a small parish immediately after a failed attempt at my network is particularly subtle. If they're smart they'll be in with the locals, if they aren't locals themselves."

Alex shifted thoughtfully.

"They're only muggles. We haven't found a single shred of evidence towards any wizarding connections, so it's unlikely they'd have wards or the like. We could send in someone from the wizarding side? A disillusionment spell and a property mapping charm and we'll have an accurate floorplan too. It's skirting a bit close to the laws about Muggle Hunting, but as long as when we go after them we don't use even an unlocking charm we should be fine."

Harry pursed his lips, sitting back in his chair while he thought. Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he stared at the door behind Alex's back.

"Do it. But afterwards I want whoever you use obliviated of the mission. I'm reluctant to allow too much crossover, but needs must. Do not do it yourselves," he levelled a look at his surprised Hounds. "You're both too valuable to risk, and who knows if they have some sort of security system we haven't encountered before. Until we can confirm more, use someone disposable, and do it immediately. They'll probably make another move in the very near future and I want to have everything in place. Shot, start working your magic and see if you can find hints of any inactive cells before they become an issue. This organisation is beginning to annoy me and I want the entire thing torn to pieces."

The Hounds nodded, each silently touched at being valued so highly by the icy boy.

"Anything else urgent?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.

All three adults frowned, it wasn't like Vahan to show such weakness, even in front of them.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Alex asked.

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders and neck.

"I'm fine. I just need a way to squeeze more hours out of each day so I can get some more sleep. Living supported by potions isn't ideal."

The adults frowned again, realising just how much Harry had on his plate, even with the Hounds and golems managing the bulk of the network and related paperwork.

"Perhaps you should take some time off, and just focus on school?" Shot offered tentatively.

Harry grinned ruefully.

"If only I could. I'm doing the bare minimum as it is, but I have to find a way to manage my time better before the potions overuse kills me. Or Marcel does, when he finds out about it," he smirked.

Sergei grunted.

"I've got some contacts that might be able to get something to help. I'll see what I can do."

Harry nodded, slumped in his chair, eyes blinking slowly.

Alex stood, and decisively scooped the exhausted boy into his arms.

"Sorry, Sir, but you can't sleep here. Just relax and I'll get you back to Hogwarts. We'll take care of this, you just relax and focus on school for now."

His only answer was a soft snore.

 


	12. Chapter 12

"So, have you learned your lesson?" Harry asked calmly.

 

"Yes!" Sobbed the Sorting Hat. "Please! Please, no more, no more," it subsided into whimpers.

 

Harry smirked and reached into the hat, pulling out the books he'd placed in there as agreed. Admittedly, his punishment might have been a bit harsh, but the blasted Hat had derailed so many of his plans that he was feeling vindictive.

 

"Now, do you have any information for me?"

 

"Dumbledore muttered something about Sirius Black. He doesn't like you being in Slytherin and wants to do something about it. I don't know what, or what Black has to do with it, but I'd be careful. He also wasn't pleased you killed the troll. He was thrilled you went to rescue a fellow student, such a good little hero, you were," Albert cooed, then continued, "but you were a bit more aggressive than he'd anticipated. He doesn't like that you can kill something so calmly."

 

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

 

"Anything else?"

 

"Severus has approached Dumbledore about Quirrell; he believes that Quirrell may be working for the Dark Lord. He's on the right track, but it's closer to a partial possession I think. Dumbledore seems aware of it, but isn't taking action. I suspect it's because of whatever he's hidden away on the third floor. Regardless, something _is_ wrong with Quirinus. I can't confirm what, but I'm certain it's not good; it's definitely a threat to the students."

 

"Alright, thank you, Albert."

 

Harry pulled out a new bundle of books, and slid them into the hat. Hooking the edge of the hat onto a long wooden pole, he carefully extended it into the room, ensuring that no part of his body crossed the line of the open window. The rod lifted the hat back onto his corner of the shelf, and then withdrew slowly. The portraits kept chatting away to themselves, oblivious.

 

It was quite a handy little loophole that Harry had found. He had noticed that the window was always open, to allow Fawkes to come and go as he pleased, and had charms and wards across it to prevent insects or gusts of wind from getting in. As long as nothing living crossed the ward line, nothing would trigger the alert. So, a long pole to lift the hat in and out of the window, and disillusionment and notice-me-not charms on himself and a broom outside the window, and he was set. It was almost disgusting how easy it was.

 

Harry tipped the broom, landed gracefully and after concealing it in his cuff again, moved closer to the Entrance Hall before dropping the charms. Sauntering casually toward the dungeons with his hands in his pockets, he found himself whistling cheerfully. The slightly fearful looks from a trio of passing Hufflepuffs had him grinning in amusement.

 

"Boo," he deadpanned, chuckling when they jumped and scattered like startled sheep. He really shouldn't frighten the poor dears if he planned to recruit some of them, but it was just so _easy_ sometimes.

 

The air of the dungeons was cool and damp, and Harry let his hand trail along the wall as he walked, enjoying his unusually good mood.

 

A movement in the shadows caught his eye, and he watched, bemused, as Warthog stalked out of the gloom, padding quietly past him studiously looking anywhere but at her bonded wizard.

 

"Warthog?" Harry asked slowly. "Why is Mrs Norris riding on your back?"

 

_"Not. One. Word."_

 

"I see. Well for what it's worth, I think you make a mighty steed." Hearing his familiars snarl, Harry laughed and dashed the rest of the way to the Slytherin Common Room before she could take a swipe at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Dumbledore and Snape stood next to the window in Dumbledore's office, watching as Harry and Draco smiled and socialised with a group of Ravenclaws. It was clear, even from a distance, that the young Potter Heir was quickly drawing the other students into his orbit, and that it wouldn't be long until he'd added to his faithful following.

 

The Headmaster frowned, reminded far too strongly of another charismatic young man. This was potentially problematic.

 

"Is there a reason you called me here, Albus?" Snape finally broke the silence.

 

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Please, take a seat."

 

The two men settled themselves on opposite sides of the desk, forgoing their usual tea.

 

"Severus, what is your assessment of young Harry?"

 

Snape held back the heavy sigh building in his chest, maintaining his impassive façade. He'd known this conversation was coming, and was in fact surprised it had taken so long to occur. That didn't mean he was going to make it easy for the old goat.

 

"You already have my report from the staff meeting; I fail to see why I should deliver it orally as well." He added a faint scowl for good measure, inwardly smirking at the flash of annoyance in the twinkling blue eyes opposite.

 

"Yes, your report on him as a teacher was somewhat surprising. As I recall you stated that he had a whiff of potential if he could ever overcome his arrogance long enough to learn something. High praise indeed! However, we both know that is not what I'm asking about." Dumbledore's gaze was unwavering, and Severus knew that play time was over. The question was, how did he want to twist this? He had yet to make a decision about the offer that Potter had made him.

 

"He's intelligent," he finally allowed slowly. "Whoever his adopted father is, they've put time into training him."

 

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened.

 

"What kind of training?"

 

Snape took a moment to observe the man who had held his leash for the last decade. He'd never particularly liked the old man, but at the time he'd been the only option. Now, however, he had a way to escape, to actually live a life of his own if he chose. He thought back to the card he'd been given, carefully tucked away in the secret pocket inside his robes. The stylized V over an otherwise blank shield shimmered in the middle of the plain white card, leaving no doubt who the card belonged to. Anyone who had even the shallowest of dealings with the seedier side of the wizarding world knew that symbol nowadays. And yet, for all Vahan's growing influence, one thing had been clear from the very beginning; he looked after his people. He was no soft touch, that was blatantly obvious, but if you gave your loyalty to him, he would never abuse it.

 

The same could not be said for Dumbledore. The old man moved people like chess pieces, and it had been apparent from the start that he had some sort of strategy in mind involving The-Boy-Who-Lived. Given the death toll from the central figures in the last war, Severus didn't hold out much hope for the boy's survival if he rested his life in Dumbledore's wrinkled old hands.

 

The question was, just how was Potter connected to the illusive Crime Lord that had non-affiliated scumbags shivering in terror?

 

_'They work for me.'_

 

He had his suspicions, but only time would tell. Either way, nobody was stupid enough to falsely claim association; not if they wanted to live.

 

"Publicity," he said, making up his mind. "He's been taught how to manage people. I'd say it’s the same sort of training diplomats would get, though scaled down appropriate for his age. He's no expert, but I'd say his father wanted him to be able to manage his fans and fame without panicking."

 

"I see," Dumbledore leaned back with a frown, stroking his beard. "Have you been able to uncover anything about the man who adopted him?"

 

"Nothing yet," Severus lied. "I've a few rumours, but nothing concrete enough to report."

 

Dumbledore pursed his lips, thinking. This wasn't going the way he'd planned at all, and would require some careful manoeuvring to fix. The boy was too important to allow him to slip away, especially in these early days of the game.

 

"Thank you, Severus, that will be all for now."

 

The younger man nodded and stood, sweeping out of the room and down the stairs, heading directly for his quarters. He had a letter to write.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry stood next to his bed, sorting through his books and assignments before placing some in his bag and withdrawing others. He had a study session tonight, and had managed to convince both Cedric Diggory and the Weasley Twins to join them. The only problem he could see with the arrangement was Hermione.

 

The girl had settled a little with the usual group, focusing more on her own work and not trying to arrange everything for the others, but her need to show off her intelligence was likely to make a resurgence in the presence of older students. She had a lot of potential, but her personality and rigid beliefs about certain topics didn't do her any favours. She'd need a lot of work before she was anything close to usable; though her devotion since the troll incident was useful and gave him something to work with.

 

Leaving the unneeded books scattered on his bed, he grabbed his bag and strolled to the library. He was a little late, but he wanted to see how his group was interacting without him there, and the older students wouldn't be arriving for another half hour.

 

"Granger, the assignment is a one foot. You can't submit three!"

 

Harry sighed. _'And so it begins,'_ he thought wryly.

 

"Zabini, just because you're content doing the bare minimum of work doesn't mean the rest of us are!"

 

Deciding to interrupt before the argument could get them thrown out of the library, Harry approached and set his bag down.

 

"You guys were getting pretty loud. Is everything alright?"

 

Hermione and Zabini were glaring at each other over piles of reference books, and looked to be seconds away from growling at each other like a pair of brawling junkyard mutts.

 

Both children turned to him and began babbling, each trying to get their point across over the top of the other.

 

"She's being totally-"

 

"And he won't-"

 

"But they-"

 

"And then he-"

 

Harry held up a hand, pleased when they instantly fell silent.

 

"Hermione, Zabini, we can discuss it after we're finished here for the night. In the meantime, please let it rest before you get our entire group thrown out of the library." For all that he maintained a pleasant expression, his voice was cold and firm, and he could see Draco flinch slightly at his side. The sight had him fighting down a smirk; it was good to know that the blonde hadn't gotten complacent.

 

Hermione looked to be about to argue, but quickly reconsidered when she saw the glare from Madam Pince aimed in their direction. Zabini settled back quietly, seemingly content to follow orders in this case, much to Harry's surprise. Perhaps he was further along in his recruitment of the young Italian than he'd thought?

 

Settling himself at the table, and waiting for Draco to do the same to his right as usual, he pulled out his homework planner. He waited until everyone in the group had settled back to work and the Librarian had stopped glaring at them, before softly clearing his throat.

 

"We have a trio of third years joining us shortly. If we work well together then they'll join us regularly."

 

He could see Hermione starting to puff up, her hands inching towards the pile of books in front of her.

 

"Hermione, please remember that they are here to study WITH us, not tutor us in advanced work. If you have questions about the work you're currently doing, then by all means ask for clarification as usual, but please limit it to that for these sessions. They have their own work to do as well."

 

The girl practically whined in frustration, but didn't question the order, settling down and returning to her own work. Harry mused that it was promising how she's taken two orders from him without question in the past fifteen minutes. He'd have to find something to reward her for her cooperation.

 

Working quietly, they ploughed through their homework, comparing notes in quiet whispers and coaching each other through trouble spots. Harry kept watch over his little group, pleased to see how well they were all interacting. Even Crabbe and Goyle had come out of their shells somewhat, becoming more active members. They were still quiet, particularly if people outside their usual group were around, but now they didn't hold back or hide their intelligence from the people at the table. They'd also become visibly protective of every member currently sitting with them, even going so far as to defend both Thomas and Hermione from the youngest Weasley boy and his Irish sidekick. The incident had been immediately reported to Harry, who was privately thrilled that they'd come to him rather than Draco. He considered it progress.

 

He glanced up, spotting the expected third years entering the library. Raising a hand to draw their attention, he made sure the space to his left was clear for them to settle. The table that the group had claimed as their own was actually two pushed together, and conveniently, there were three seat free at the end.

 

"Diggory, Weasley's," Harry greeted them as the older boys settled next to him.

 

"Potter," they nodded back, pulling out their work, and smiling to everyone else at the table.

 

Harry took a moment to cast a glance at Hermione, silently reminding her to behave herself. The girl dropped her eyes and kept her silence, earning herself a pat on the arm from Thomas, who was sitting next to her.

 

Diggory groaned quietly as he glanced at his homework planner.

 

"Oh, Merlin, this assignment is going to kill me!"

 

The Twins nodded in agreement.

 

"What's the assignment?" Harry asked, jotting the few last points onto his Potions essay and casting a drying charm at the ink.

 

"Herbology," Diggory whispered. "We have to do three feet on the _Incubus Datura metel_."

 

Neville perked up, which earned a small smile from the other first years.

 

"I can help with that," he whispered excitedly. "I have a couple of those in the greenhouse at home. They're amazing plants, really, and surprisingly useful!"

 

"Neville is a budding Herbology prodigy, if you'll excuse the pun," Harry explain to the surprised looking third years. "If he says he can help you, then he can."

 

The boy in question blushed, but puffed up under the praise.

 

Harry glanced at Goyle, who wordlessly stood, switching chairs with the Longbottom Heir. There was a bit of shuffling as they moved their belongings, but in short order the chubby boy was settled opposite Harry, and leaning in to discuss the details of the essay requirements.

 

Harry found himself whispering with Draco, coaching him through a Transfiguration problem, while Zabini worked with Thomas, Crabbe and Goyle on their History. Hermione was scribbling frantically, seemingly trying to include an entire textbooks worth of notes into whatever assignment she was working on. Eying it warily, Harry reinforced his mental note to speak with her and Zabini after study was finished for the night.

 

The quiet of the library was soothing, and the third years slipped into the group dynamic as if they'd always been a part of it. The Weasley twins eyed Harry speculatively every now and again, but Harry ignored it, focusing on his work. He knew they were curious about what he could possibly be trying to recruit them for, but he wanted to draw them in a little more first, binding them into the group and if possible, begin earning their loyalty. He'd done his research on them, and he already had several ideas for possible ways to use their skills.

 

Two hours passed, and the group finally called it quits for the night. It wasn't quite curfew, but it was close enough that they didn't have a lot of time to linger in the halls, especially if Harry was going to sort out the issue between Hermione and Zabini.

 

Packing up their materials, Neville, Thomas, and Diggory moved to return the books to the shelves, while the rest of the group collected their things for them.

 

"When's your next study group?" Fred asked, George waiting expectantly next to him.

 

"Wednesday after dinner. At the moment we're meeting Wednesdays, and Fridays, and a few of us meet informally on Saturdays after lunch if we have something we want to work on, but that isn't an 'official' session. Will you be joining us again?" Harry peered up expectantly, his green eyes large and hopeful behind his glasses.

 

"I know I will," Diggory interjected, coming up behind the twins and picking his bag up from the table. "I would have been here all night on that Herbology essay without Neville's help."

 

Neville, who had returned at the same time, blushed and stared at his feet, mumbling something undistinguishable.

 

Diggory looked at the embarrassed boy and smiled kindly.

 

"Is it alright if I call you Neville? I know you didn't invite me to, but I'd like to think we could be friends? You can all call me Cedric, too; I don't mind."

 

The twins shared a glance, and threw their arms around Neville's shoulders.

 

"We'll be back-"

 

"Too, so you may as-"

 

"Well call us Gred-"

 

"And Forge."

 

Neville smiled shyly, and nodded his agreement.

 

The other first years eyed each other, then shrugged.

 

"We spend all our time together anyway, we may as well just agree to all use our first names," Zabini drawled, looking bored as he hitched his satchel onto his shoulder.

 

Harry watched quietly as everyone nodded in agreement. The group was already pulling together, even outside of study and he was very pleased to see it. Vahan's current Inner Circle wouldn't be around forever, and it was highly likely that these children would form the core of their replacements when the time came. In the meantime, they would need to be drawn even closer to Harry, and he would need to shape them into something useable. Behind his calm expression, his mind raced, making plans.

 

The group said their goodbyes, disbursing to their respective common rooms, though Harry made sure to grab Hermione and Zabini, ushering them into one of the multitude of abandoned classrooms that seemed to fill Hogwarts halls.

 

He ignored Draco following them into the room, and settled against a desk, leaving the blond to shut the door after they'd all filed in.

 

"Now, let's get this settled before we get caught out after curfew. Zabini - Blaise, you start first."

 

Hermione huffed and opened her mouth, but a narrow eyed glance from Draco was enough to settle her for the moment.

 

"I was trying to do my charms assignment, and she kept shoving more and more books at me saying that I wasn't including enough references, and that if I wanted to raise my grades 'to an acceptable level' then I needed to provide more than what was asked for to demonstrate my knowledge and research skills. I'm in the top ten students across the board, and I have an EE average! I don't appreciate being told what to do by someone who's sabotaging their own grades because they want to show off! And when I tried to tell her why she keeps losing marks on her assignments, she just shouts at me! She's impossible!"

 

He might have continued his rant, had Harry not raised a hand.

 

"So you're saying that you feel that your grades are acceptable, her attempts at assisting you were counter-productive, and your own attempts to help her were not received in the spirit they were intended?"

 

Blaise nodded sulkily.

 

"Alright, Hermione?"

 

The girl could barely contain herself, and angrily burst into speech, her voice tight and shrill as she fought back tears.

 

"I was just trying to help! You're always encouraging us to help each other, and I was trying! I'm not good at anything other than classwork and research, so how am I supposed to help if every time I try I just get shouted at? And besides, if we don't show that we thoroughly understand the material, how can the Professors grade us appropriately? My dad says you should always do more than asked for because it's a mark of good character!"

 

Harry sighed tiredly. He really was too exhausted to be playing mediator to a couple of squabbling children.

 

"I think I understand the issue. To summarise, you feel that your only contribution is academic, and you don't want to be a burden. Your excessive amount of work is due to your attempts to prove your worth; does that sound about right?"

 

Hermione wilted slightly under the harsh phrasing, but nodded quietly.

 

"Ok, firstly; the next time you have issues with each other and it's escalating, take it out of the library so that you don't disturb the rest of the group. Don't drag them into your fights, it has nothing to do with them, and they shouldn't have to suffer through their own work being disturbed. Secondly, Blaise, do you _want_ to raise your average?"

 

The Italian gave a half-hearted shrug and a head jiggle that could be vaguely interpreted as a nod.

 

"If you do, then working with Hermione will help you increase your research skills at the very least. You should take advantage of her offered help. Hermione," he turned to look at the sulking girl, "Blaise has a point about the length of your submitted work. Tell me, how many students are at Hogwarts right now?"

 

"Approximately 1500," the girl answered promptly.

 

"And if we use Charms as an example, how many students are taking that?"

 

"At least a thousand, since some students choose not to continue it after OWLs."

 

"Exactly. Ignoring the difference in level and volume of work required from the upper years, let's assume that every student is tasked with one essay a week. That means that the Professor has to read and mark approximately 1000 feet of essays _every week_. Now, if students submitting work three times the requested length each and every time, do you think the Professor would truly appreciate the effort, or do you think they would resent it?"

 

He paused, waiting for the girl to process that, and felt a moment of relief when she looked stricken.

 

"Additionally, part of the assignment requirement is a specific length. This means that not only do you need to demonstrate your knowledge, you need to be able to do it clearly and concisely within a given framework. It's not always enough to know something, sometimes you have to _show_ you know something in a way that doesn't bore your audience. For example, if I asked you what the weather was like today, would you say it was sunny? Or would you spend three hours explaining the science of meteorology behind weather prediction, and how it affects fashion choices in today's society?"

 

Hermione's eyes bugged out, her mouth dropping into a shocked little 'o'.

 

"I've been costing myself marks because my assignments were too long and had too _much_ information?"

 

Blaise nodded, relieved.

 

"That's what I was trying to say! You can always include an inch at the bottom with a list of further resources or reading; the Professors wouldn't mind that, and it shows the thoroughness of your research without making them hate you for the extra work you're making them do."

 

Hermione turned watery eyes onto Blaise.

 

"I'm so sorry I didn't listen!"

 

"Good, so you both get it now? Argument over?" Harry asked quietly, rubbing his eye under his glasses. At their nods, he glanced at his watch. "It's nearly curfew. We won't have time to walk you back to your dorm, Hermione, I'm sorry."

 

"That's alright, I don't need to be escorted everywhere!" The girl scowled, folding her arms defiantly.

 

"I would prefer you were, especially at this time of night; _especially_ since I know that you're still being picked on. Not to mention that you're officially under the protection of House Longbottom, which is trusting Houses Malfoy, Potter, and Zabini with your protection in Neville's absence. It's kind of a big deal, even if you don't see it like that. It's our responsibility to make sure you're returned 'home' safely."

 

Harry thought for a moment. Normally he'd send Zabini - Blaise, damn it - to escort her since this was partially his mess to clean up, but that would leave the young Slytherin to traverse the entire castle alone on the edge of curfew. Slytherins didn't walk alone even in the middle of the day, it just wasn't safe given how vilified the House of Snakes was. To have a first year do so at this time of night was asking for a trip to the hospital wing. Of course, he and Draco could join the group, but that would be overkill for this situation, and send the wrong message about Hermione's position in the group.

 

In a moment of inspiration, he reached for the bond to Warthog. He couldn't speak to her through it, but a gentle tug against it let her know that she was needed. He felt her tug back in acknowledgement and relaxed.

 

"Was there anything else that needed addressing urgently?" Harry asked quietly.

 

Hermione bit her lip and shifted, drawing their attention.

 

"Where can I find out more about this Protection thing? If even having me walk alone could be an issue, I need to know more about it. I mean, I'm not some fainting damsel in distress and I don't want to be treated like one, but if this is as big a deal as you say I should probably learn more so I don't cause problems or embarrass Neville."

 

The three Slytherins smiled at her proudly, and she blushed.

 

"I'm glad you're willing to learn before jumping to conclusions," Harry complimented her, Draco nodding at his side.

 

"It's a good sign that you're willing to learn, so you don't make the same mistakes you did at the start," Draco offered. "I can recommend some books for you to look up. I'll give you a list tomorrow."

 

"I'd be happy to help explain anything you don't understand, though you'll need to sit down with the Longbottoms and your parents to arrange the details of the agreement before it can be made official. As Heir, Neville can offer it and it will be enforced, but as Regent, his grandmother has to negotiate the specifics with your legal guardians." Blaise jumped in, not wanting to be outdone. It was obvious that Harry had plans for this little muggleborn, and while he wasn't entirely sure he wanted in on whatever the boy was working towards, he hadn't decided he wanted _out_ yet either.

 

Hermione wasn't given time to respond, since Warthog chose that moment to materialize from the shadows and stroll over to Harry, sitting casually next to her human as if she hadn't just miraculously appeared in an effectively locked room with zero effort.

 

The girl yelped, starting violently. Draco and Blaise weren't any less startled, but managed to control their reactions to a slight twitch and a hitched breath.

 

Harry glanced at his smug familiar out of the corner of his eye, but didn't comment on her appearance.

 

"Warthog, would you please escort Hermione back to her Common Room?"

 

The puma dipped her head in a nod, and moved next to the lightly shaking girl, standing next to her patiently. It wasn't until that moment that Harry really noticed that Warthog was significantly larger than a typical example of her species. Where a normal Cougar would reach approximately mid-thigh on an adult, his familiar stood approximately hip height, and carried a lot more defined muscle than most; this left her standing roughly equal to Hermione's armpit. Her brilliant blue eyes shone in the flickering torch light, and the young wizard found himself eyeing her appreciatively. She really was beautiful.

 

Hermione shifted nervously.

 

"Um, Harry?"

 

"Yes, Hermione?" The boy teased back.

 

"She won't, ah, _do_ anything, will she?" Hermione bit her lip, her overly large beaver-like teeth sticking out unfortunately.

 

Harry smiled when Warthog gave an amused chuff.

 

"To you? Nothing beyond ensuring you go straight to your Common Room and actually go inside. If someone tries to hurt you, she'll _deter_ them." He stood, ignoring Hermione's increasingly frantic demands for clarification, taking his bag from Draco and slinging it over his shoulder. Blaise opened the door, and waited until they'd all exited before following them and closing the door again.

 

The boys waited until Warthog had ushered the young girl down the hallway, then made their way down to the dungeons, making it to their Common Room with barely a minute and a half to spare.

 

The Common Room was pleasantly warm, easing away the damp chill that pervaded the rest of the dungeon corridors. Nott was sitting by the fire, and scowled when he saw the group enter. It was obvious that he'd been hoping to get them in trouble if they were even a minute late; for all that Slytherin was famous for their cunning, the little rat boy was not exactly subtle.

 

They trooped into the dorms, dropping their things onto their respective beds and flopping down.

 

Draco ended up draped on Harry's bed, and absently picked up the pile of books he'd left there earlier. Pulling one from the pile, he frowned as he flicked through it.

 

"Hey, Harry?"

 

Harry hummed absently, beginning to strip off his uniform in preparation for a shower.

 

"Why do you have the Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes with the last chapter of each story ripped out?"

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Thank you for your patience and encouragement while you all waited for this chapter. I've really appreciated it. I'd especially like to thank the two girls who were discussing this series over lunch in a Sydney shopping mall recently. My brother (Drunk_Harry) overheard you while eating his own lunch, and let me know. You girls motivated me and I am touched beyond words that my work warrants actual conversation (I know that's weird, but it's true). So, this chapter is dedicated to you, with my most humble appreciation.
> 
>  
> 
> Side note, I tweeted about how I stayed up too late reading The Game trilogy by Eve Silver. SHE TWEETED ME BACK!!! *hyperventilates* Side note, you should totally read it, I really enjoyed it.

  


**  
**

Harry was in his office at Sanctuary, working his way steadily, if with simmering frustration, through an irritatingly large pile of paperwork. The majority of the work had been done by Sergei, Alex, and the Smith golem, but there were some details that required a personal touch that Smith just couldn't manage. It was fine for dealing with small time reports and signatures, but anything that involved the complicated wheels within wheels type of planning that Vahan was infamous for was beyond its capabilities.

 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Harry paused to take a sip of his coffee. It was still the perfect temperature, despite the forty odd minutes it had been sitting untouched. The young crime lord took a moment to bless magic and dedicated House Elves.

 

"Sir, the Acolytes are moving," Alex announced as he quietly entered the room.

 

Harry glanced up at him, grateful to divert his attention to something more interesting than the annihilated forest on his desk.

 

"Good. Do they need a removalist? I think we have a few trucks free."

 

Alex flashed a smile, before sobering.

 

"They attacked Dudley in his hospital room. Two of his guards were killed, the other isn't likely to survive the night. One of them managed to hit the alert button before they were taken down, but they got away with Dudley. Marcel says that if we don't get him back in the next twenty four hours that he likely won't survive. His previous injuries were severe enough to be of concern, so if the Acolytes torture him…" The Hound trailed off meaningfully.

 

Vahan calmly raised an eyebrow.

 

"Do we have the intel yet?"

 

Alex paused to rifle through the folder in his hands.

 

"We received the floor plan and what details our agent could uncover last night." He pulled free a folded map, and pinned it to a board on the wall. "I've noted an entry plan, but the chance of getting in and out without casualties is less than five percent. I've put together recommendations for a team, it just needs your approval and they'll be ready to move."

 

He handed the file to Harry, who glanced over it quickly. All of the people listed were very capable members of his network, but nobody who would be crippling to lose. He noted that Bobby from Dudley's team had offered up his two most capable fighters, one of which specialised in B&E.

 

"Approved. Sergei and I will be onsite as well. I'll leave the initial entry and sweep to the team you selected, but I want someone I trust to go through afterwards to check the place out. We haven't seen any evidence of magical involvement, but we would be remise not to check while we have the opportunity." He handed the folder back.

 

Alex took it with a nod.

 

"Did you want me to go with you as well?"

 

Harry shrugged dismissively.

 

"If you like."

 

* * *

  


 

Harry leaned against his car, wrapped in a thick wool trench coat, and watched impassively as his people breached the isolated farmhouse. There were bangs and crashes, and flashes of gunfire for several minutes as the team of fifteen swept through the building like a rage filled Tsunami.

 

Only the two volunteers from Bobby's team had met Dudley, but all of the involved 'soldiers' were howling for blood at one of their own being harmed. The fact that it was one of the kids merely flamed their bloodlust to rabid proportions. Everyone knew that you didn't hurt the kids if you wanted to keep your hands (or other parts), and everyone knew what the Acolytes were capable of. Vahan looked after all of his people, but the children were special, and everyone in the network understood that they were to be protected.

 

At the Hounds recommendation, every person even loosely associated with Vahan's network had been informed about the Acolytes, and placed on a Priority One Alert for any information on them. So far, they'd managed to unearth at least three more inactive cells, and had a lead on another.

 

The ruckus finally died down, and Harry refocused his attention to the mission at hand. Sipping at the Thermos lid full of hot chocolate Alex had handed him, he waited patiently for the Team Leader to come and report.

 

A figure emerged from the gloom, and came to a halt in front of Harry, saluting sloppily with his left hand.

 

Fighting down a smile, Harry sipped his drink and let Alex handle the report. As far as any of the team were concerned, Tiny had been sent to observe the situation at Vahan's request, and while nobody knew why, they assumed it had something to do with the Acolytes.

 

"We cleared the building, Sir," the scruffy man stated. "We lost two of ours, and we have four others with non-fatal injuries that need attention, but we got all of the cell members who are here right now. We'll have to go through the paperwork we found to see if there's any more who weren't here tonight."

 

Alex nodded, hands folded behind his back.

 

"And our boy?"

 

"Safe. They'd started softening him up a bit, and he's lost a couple of fingernails, but it looks like we got here in time. He's getting some first aid now, but I think he's gonna need to get back to the hospital quick smart."

 

Alex nodded, dismissed the man, and clicked his radio to bring in the disguised private ambulances and bus waiting nearby.

 

"How did you want to proceed, Sir?" He asked, taking the empty Thermos lid from Harry and casting a discrete cleaning spell before packing it away in the car. "Did you want to go inside?"

 

Harry shook his head.

 

"No need. I only wanted to see how the team worked together for something like this. I was contemplating having them cross trained into a more paramilitary style unit."

 

Alex made a considering noise.

 

"Not a bad idea. Did you want to pull them from their current groups to form a new one?"

 

The small boy shook his head, watching the injured and Dudley being loaded gently into the vehicles, and the hogtied Acolytes being tossed carelessly into another.

 

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of secondment. I don't need a permanent paramilitary force at this point, but having a few highly trained units on standby for events like this might be useful."

 

"Would you like me to begin screening candidates and looking into training?"

 

Harry nodded, and gave the farmhouse one final look before sliding into the back of the car.

 

"I'm going home. Scour every inch of this property, not just the farmhouse. I wouldn't be surprised if they have a bunker or a backup building around here somewhere. They seem the sort."

 

Activating his portkey, Harry disappeared from the seat, leaving his Hounds behind.

 

* * *

  


 

Christmas was fast approaching, and Harry was up to his eyebrows in preparation. He'd considered going home for the holidays, but the opportunity to make some progress on the Flamel job was more pressing. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't slip home as needed.

 

Warthog was stretched out in front of the fire, happily roasting herself while Harry lay on the floor, using her belly as a pillow. He was reading through some reports Shot had sent of her progress on the Halloween Night research, which one of his Hounds had thoughtfully charmed to look like a History of Magic textbook. So far, she'd come up with a big pile of nothing verifiable, but that in itself was a lead. She'd discounted several theories, and passed the details of various people along to Bradshaw and the Hounds for prosecution or blackmail. The lawyer and his team had been steadily working through the list of people making money off Harry Potter's name without proper authorization, and gleefully stripping them of every knut that should have gone to royalties. With a few carefully worded press releases, they'd even managed to spin it as reclaiming earnings stolen by heartless adults taking advantage of a vulnerable orphaned child.

 

Harry had stipulated that since they were working in Harry's name and not Vahan's, they wouldn't touch a single knut that he wouldn't have been entitled to had they followed proper procedures, the exception being in cases of libel or theft. He hated having to consider the PR aspect of things, but the Harry Potter name was too valuable to have it smeared, especially at such an early point in the game. It was imperative to establish himself as a golden child from the beginning if he was going to succeed in cashing in on it later. Albert had thrown a massive spanner in the works by placing him in Slytherin, but no matter how irritated he might be he couldn't really blame the mouthy little lint ball. After all, he _was_ ambitious and cunning.

 

 _"I don't like the rabbity one; he stares at you too much."_ Warthog commented drowsily, the tip of her tail twitching slowly.

 

"Mm, I've noticed," Harry hummed back quietly. He let his gaze flick over the room, noting the handful of students who were sprawled around making the place look untidy. Not many had elected to stay over the holidays, mostly fifth and seventh years hoping to get ahead with their studying for exams; and Nott, who was failing at subtly staring at Harry from the corner of his eye.

 

Warthog purred contentedly, the sound rumbling through her chest and into Harry's resting head. Sighing, he relaxed and let his familiar soothe him. They hadn't had a huge amount of time together since starting at Hogwarts, and the nights she'd spent hogging his bed had mostly passed quietly discussing various intel they'd put together on the castle residents.

 

 _"You're exhausted,"_ she observed, shifting a paw to rest against his side, purring louder when he absently began to stroke it and fiddle with the pads, extending and retracting the claws idly.

 

"Yeah," the boy sighed softly. "It's been a bit crazy trying to keep up with everything. I'll manage though. I know Sergei thinks he might have a solution, so hopefully something will pan out there."

 

 _"I hope so, I hate seeing you like this. You've always worked hard, but this is insane even for you. It's not sustainable. You're not even_ drawing _anymore."_

 

Harry smiled and put his papers aside, rolling over and draping himself along her pleasantly warm body. He chuckled when she lifted her head and licked the top of his for a moment, before slumping back down, content to be his mattress. They lay in silence for a while, each drawing comfort from the other and silently promising themselves that they'd make more of an effort to spend non work related time together.

 

"Hey, Warthog," Harry eventually whispered. Warthog twitched an ear to show she was listening. "That night I asked you to escort Hermione back to her Common Room, how did you get into the classroom we were in? The door was closed, and I _know_ you weren't in there beforehand."

 

Her soft laugher rumbled through his mind, even as her purring picked up a notch and developed a decidedly smug air.

 

_"You only decided to ask this now?"_

 

"I'd forgotten until now, to be honest. I've been so busy that I've been slipping." He sighed heavily, shifting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms more firmly around her ribs.

 

 _"Hmm,"_ Warthog replied, stretching her forelegs and popping her claws before relaxing again. _"I've been developing some new talents thanks to being bonded to you."_

 

Harry perked up, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them so he could peer down at his familiar.

 

"Really? What kind of things?"

 

 _"Well, I'm still experimenting, but so far I can tap into your magic through the bond and use it to walk through shadows,"_ she huffed slightly as Harry jerked on top of her, sitting up slightly.

 

"You can _what_?"

 

Sending a feeling of impatience and annoyance down the bond, the massive cat waited for her wizard to settle again before continuing.

 

 _"Relax, it's not like I can steal your magic and use it to cast spells or anything. It's barely a drop in the ocean, and it's no different than using it to activate the armour. I'd imagine it has the same restrictions, in that if you're magically exhausted then I couldn't use the Sliding ability."_ She fell silent, allowing Harry time to process the newest information.

 

"Really? You call it _Shadow Sliding_?" Harry snorted.

 

_"Shut up, brat, I think it sounds cool!"_

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"If you say so? Call it whatever you like, that's still a very neat trick."

 

 _"It's_ magic _,"_ she huffed, _"tricks are for kids."_

 

"Only until I kill their pimps," Harry muttered with a smirk, smiling wider at the burst of laughter from his familiar.

 

Several minutes passed in silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the sound of turning pages from the studying students.

 

Finally, Harry sighed and lifted himself grudgingly off his familiar. This was not the place for this conversation, and while he was perfectly capable of casting a privacy charm, that was a fifth year spell and he couldn't risk blowing his cover for something like this.

 

"Come on, let's go for a walk. I need to stretch my legs a bit."

 

Warthog reluctantly pried herself away from the warmth of the fire, and followed Harry into his room, where he quickly threw on some warmer clothes and then covered them with a cloak. He looked at Warthog thoughtfully.

 

"Did you want me to arrange a jacket or something for you, to help keep you warm? I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner, that was neglectful of me."

 

Warthog chuffed in amusement and rubbed her face against his stomach, knocking him back a step.

 

_"I'm fine, silly wizard. It's a bit cold, but I've got some ideas I'd like you to run past Shot and the Hounds. Are we going to see them now?"_

 

"Not tonight. We'll go tomorrow, assuming nothing major comes up between now and then," Harry shook his head, and the two of them strolled from the dorm and out of the Common Room, Harry waving cheekily at Nott as he passed.

 

The look he received in return made all the future bitching he'd be subjected to worth it.

 

The echo of their footsteps rolled playfully through the deserted halls, highlighting the eerie emptiness of the castle. It was strange, the lifeless feeling permeating the ancient building. Even in the dead of night, the quiet presence of the slumbering residents brought a feeling of life to the halls; but with so many people gone, the castle had developed a lonely air, as if Hogwarts herself was calling out to her children, begging them to come home and love her once more.

 

Harry rested his hand on Warthog's shoulders, idling scratching the fur under his fingers even as he enjoyed the sensation of her strong muscles shifting under the skin. It was odd that she was larger and more muscular than her species usually achieved, but he supposed it was a side effect of his magic feeding into her. He'd have to make sure she had regular check-ups and didn't develop any problems from the enhanced growth.

 

 _"Stop fussing and just admire me,"_ Warthog said, purring in amusement. _"Your constant worrying is giving_ me _a headache!"_

 

"Sorry," Harry smiled, before turning his attention to the sound of additional footsteps approaching.

 

A few moments later, Snape stepped menacingly out of the shadows, peering down his hooked nose at the boy and his familiar.

 

"And where might you be going at this time of night?"

 

Harry tilted his head slightly, a patient smile drifting across his lips.

 

"Just out for an evening constitutional before curfew, Sir. Would you care to join us?"

 

Snape eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before nodding, turning on his heel to fall in beside them.

 

They walked quietly, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the minutes rolled by. The night was chilly, but the moonlight streaming in through the windows created a beautiful image that had Harry's fingers itching to hold a paintbrush.

 

They were halfway down a rarely used corridor when Warthog chuffed to draw their attention.

 

Leading the way, she nosed against a door that was only partially closed, pushing it open and stalking inside.

 

 _"That old one that smells like lemon and goats was in here recently,"_ she observed.

 

"You know his name," Harry responded dryly. "I don't know why you insist on referring to people by their smell. It's very off-putting when I have to talk to them next and all I can think about is how you described them."

 

Snape snorted quietly.

 

"Should I ask?"

 

Harry grimaced.

 

"Well, I have it on very good authority who is having sex with whom, and a whole variety of other revolting scent based gossip that I'd rather not think about, but in this case she means Dumbledore. She says he was in here recently."

 

Snape decided that it was probably wiser not to enquire into the gruesome particulars, and looked around the room curiously.

 

It was an old abandoned classroom, smaller than average - which might account for its disuse - but recently dusted. All of the furniture had been removed, which only served to draw attention to the single item displayed proudly in the centre of the space. A large mirror in an ornate frame stood highlighted in the moonlight, the silvery light making the incongruous object seemingly glow.

 

Snape took a careful step closer, Harry remaining where he was.

 

There was an inscription along the top of the mirror frame, and the Potions Master skimmed his eyes over it.

 

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi?" Harry snorted quietly, deigning to come closer once nothing terminal occurred to his Professor. "That's the worst code I've ever seen."

 

Snape raised an eyebrow, peering down at the boy.

 

There was a long moment of silence before Harry sighed.

 

"It's just mirrored? I know you know that." He shook his head, exasperated. "I'm not familiar with many magical objects yet, that's not really something I've needed to focus on before now. Do you know this one? It seems to have been left here for a purpose."

 

Snape's lips twitched slightly, and he turned back to the mirror.

 

"It is the Mirror of Erised. Supposedly it shows your hearts greatest wish. It is a bad idea to use it repeatedly, but if you are curious then a single use will not harm you."

 

Harry shrugged, focusing on the dark clad man, instead of immediately stepping forward in front of the mirror, as Snape no doubt expected.

 

"And only I can see what it shows?"

 

Snape smirked approvingly.

 

"Indeed."

 

"Is it usually kept at Hogwarts? And if so, I can't imagine an item that is presumably as rare _and valuable_ as this would be left in such an insecure location. Anything could be about to happen to it!" He blinked angelically at the older man.

 

Snape viciously stamped on the laugh bubbling in his chest.

 

"Greed is unbecoming, Mister Potter."

 

Harry smiled serenely.

 

"I agree. Greed makes people do all sorts of things they might not otherwise do." He shook his head with mock solemnity. "Unconscionable, profitable, highly _amoral_ things."

 

A nearly silent huff of amusement left Snape's lips. They stood in silence for a moment looking over the mirror thoroughly.

 

Eventually, Snape folded his arms, watching Harry from the corner of his eye.

 

"I have engaged in some interesting correspondence recently," he said quietly.

 

"Oh?" Harry responded blandly, mirroring the older man's pose and ignoring the huff of laughter in his mind from Warthog.

 

Snape inclined his head slightly.

 

"I decided to accept the offer you extended to me. As you suspected, the benefits of such a position were most tempting."

 

Harry remained silent, waiting to see where his newest recruit would take the conversation.

 

He had high hopes for Snape. Sergei had gone into detail about what he could remember of him from Death Eater raids and meetings, which admittedly wasn't much, and they'd thoroughly investigated his reputation as both the premier Potions Master in the UK and a formidable opponent in battle. They'd determined that the man's reputation in fact was grossly _understated_. Harry had been deliberately dropping hints about his true position in the organisation, watching intently to see if the man's intelligence was all it was cracked up to be. Assuming he was genuinely loyal, and managed to figure out the truth of the situation, he would become Vahan's newest Hound. If he didn't, well... He would be useful in R &D.

 

Snape paused, casually drawing his wand and casting a series of detection and privacy spells.

 

"I had a rather illuminating meeting with Petrikov the night before last."

 

Harry peered back at him, expression politely curious.

 

"He mentioned that my task during my 'probation'," his lip curled in distaste, "is to protect and assist you in any way I can. Apparently I am to consider you my superior for all intents and purposes."

 

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, not reacting one way or the other. The formal apology and soothing of old hurts by the Family Magic was probably the only reason that the older wizard wasn't gnashing his teeth in impotent fury at the thought.

 

"Were you aware of this?"

 

Harry tilted his head without turning from the mirror, watching his expression from the corner of his eye.

 

"Does it matter?"

 

"I suppose not," Snape grudgingly admitted. "Though this task would be a lot smoother if I have your cooperation."

 

Harry sighed heavily, and finally gave his full attention to his companion. Warthog, sensing his weariness, sat herself beside him and allowed him to lean against her shoulder.

 

"Please let me clarify something, in order to avoid frustration on both our parts. While your current job is to aid and protect me, I do not require a babysitter. If you have information that may be useful to me, then by all means let me know, but otherwise it's business as usual. If that changes, or I require you to assist me in some way, you will be notified."

 

Snape observed the boy keenly, taking in the calm mannerisms and unshakable confidence. It was obvious that this boy was not some wet behind the ears little punk trying to play with the big boys. Potter was every inch the dangerous young man that his contact with Vahan implied. The question was, how close was that contact?

 

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" The older man asked quietly.

 

Harry gave him an unreadable look, before stepping forward.

 

"My reflection," he eventually responded.  His young voice offered a ring of sincerity, though he was clearly omitting some of the more private details.

 

Making a snap decision, Snape decided to place a couple of cards on the table, and begin earning the very generous position he'd been gifted with.

 

"When I was instructed to help and protect you, it was mentioned that you had a specific task. I can only imagine that it relates to the item that the Headmaster has recently obtained."

 

"You mean the mysterious item that he very craftily hid in the school, and totally didn't tell anyone where it is over dinner on our first night here? What makes you think I have any interest in such an item? Assuming such a thing exists, naturally," the boy grinned.

 

Snape blinked lazily.

 

"Well, assuming you _were_ interested in such a hypothetical object, I might know where it is hidden and how to get it."

 

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

 

"Oh?"

 

"It's in the mirror," Snape sighed.

 

"It's in his pocket," stated a voice dryly.

 

Harry and Snape both jumped, whirling to see who had intruded on their conversation so unexpectedly.

 

Behind them floated the Bloody Baron, one of Hogwarts many ghosts and the patron ghost of Slytherin House. Silvery blood coated the front of his translucent body, gruesomely painting his figure and drawing attention to the gash in his jacket that mostly concealed the wound that had claimed his life. Gaunt, the Baron stared down at them, his normally blank eyes showing a shrewd cunning and malicious glee. Floating roughly a foot above the floor, the ghost stared down at them smugly, arms folded across his chest.

 

"You should be aware, Professor, that your silly little charm may work on human ears, but not so well on ghosts, portraits, or animals. You might want to fix that." He turned his attention from the stoic Professor and focused on Harry.

 

"You, boy. You're the Potter one?"

 

Harry nodded, making a conscious effort to appear respectful, even as he mentally cursed up a storm.

 

"Albus thought he was so clever with his little mirror trick, well done on bypassing that 'want it but not to use it' rubbish; the little snot always was overconfident."

 

Harry smiled blandly and made an indeterminate noise, while next to him Snape wheezed slightly at the revered Headmaster being called a 'little snot'.

 

The Baron leaned closer, the ethereal coldness of his incorporeal body radiating a chill that had Harry fighting back a shiver. Almost nose to nose, the anciently deceased stared intently, before smirking.

 

"I'll be watching you, boy. Don't disappoint me, now."

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: It’s been a long time, guys, and I’m so very sorry to keep you all waiting. The last few months Real Life has been kicking me in places that no boot should ever be lodged. As many of you know, I’m a single mother, and between myself and my kid trading viruses back and forth, a good friend of mine dying, getting sick again, anxiety, therapy, and various child related obligations, I’ve been struggling. Many of you have messaged and reviewed, asking if I’m alright and offering encouragement, and I have no words for how much this has meant to me. I treasure every single one of you. I will endeavour to update more frequently again – I’m hoping for fortnightly, but please don’t hold me to that. *grimace* 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

 

Christmas morning found Harry curled up in his bed with Warthog wrapped around him. She'd managed to arrange herself so that he was using her belly as a pillow, and given that he'd woken curled up in a ball, she was able to bend herself around him as if she was some kind of protective prawn. He couldn't find it in himself to be irritated, given that she was purring softly under his head, and he was unusually comfortable.

 

Forcing himself fully awake, he prodded his overgrown house brat, er, _cat_.

 

"Wake up."

 

_"No."_

 

"It's Christmas."

 

_"So? Neither of us actually care about that. Let me sleep."_

 

"So you don't want your present then?"

 

Warthog cracked an eye.

 

Harry blinked up at her guilelessly.

 

_"… Gimme."_

 

Harry snorted slightly, and dug himself out of his nest of blankets, pillows, and uncooperative puma.

 

Ignoring the pile of presents at the end of his bed (a tradition he understood in a communal living situation like the dorms, but still abhorred) he stepped lightly into the slippers he'd demanded from Alex the first time he'd set foot on the morning chilled stone.

 

Opening his trunk, he pulled out a respectably large box wrapped in forest green paper with a midnight blue ribbon that glittered with pricks of silver and matched the constellations.

 

"Here you go. Merry Christmas, or whatever."

 

Warthog chuffed a laugh, and nosed curiously at the box. A glance at her wizard told her that he wasn't going to help her open it; most likely because the sadistic brat wanted to watch her frustration as she tried to figure out how to do it without thumbs.

 

A heavy swipe of her claws had the box shredded in moments, and she cast a smug look at the totally-not-pouting-honest boy. Nosing the paper aside and nudging the lid off the top of the box, she peered down.

 

_"You didn't."_

 

Harry smirked.

 

_"Seriously?"_

 

Their conversation was interrupted by a very enthusiastic blond.

 

"Harry! Oh good, you're awake!" Draco threw himself onto the bed next to Warthog, and looked up at Harry excitedly. "How many presents did you get? I bet it was heaps. Of course you got heaps! Have you opened any yet? What did you get?"

 

Harry waited patiently through Draco's excited babbling. It was times like this that he was reminded of just how young and sheltered the other boy was, even after all his time being groomed by Harry.

 

"I haven't looked at my presents yet," he commented calmly. Draco's gobsmacked expression had him fighting down a giggle. The blond couldn't have looked more shocked if a monkey had slapped him with a fish.

 

"You seem to have a significant pile yourself," Harry observed.

 

Draco lit up, and bounced over to his own bed, shouting wake up calls to the other boys in the dorm. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle all grumbled sleepily, but quickly forgot their ire when they caught sight of their own piles of presents.

 

Out of the entire dorm, only Nott had decided to go home for the break; the others seeming reluctant to part from Harry. He had to admit to being surprised at how quickly they'd attached themselves to him, though he was still unsure about Blaise.

 

Harry applied his Warm Smile #2 at the exclamations of joy his gifts elicited from the other boys, and he made a mental note that every single one of them had dug through their piles to locate and open his gift first. He was pleased by this; it was a very clear message since they had opened his before even looking at the ones from their families.

 

_"Don't forget to open your own,"_ Warthog prompted him quietly.

 

Harry hummed in agreement, and reached for his own pile. He knew that he would have many more gifts waiting for him at both Fortress and the Nest, so he wasn't offended by the small pile that graced his bed. It was considerably larger than he'd expected though, but a quick glance at the gift tags revealed that the bulk were likely token gifts from the large number of students he'd taken the time to network with at the school.

 

He grabbed a notebook and fountain pen from his bedside table and set it aside to make notes of who had gifted him what, knowing that Alex would give him a Severely Disapproving Look if he didn't.

 

He quickly sorted the pile, and fished out the gift from Draco. Given that the blond boy was effectively his 2IC at Hogwarts, the show of favour was important. The luxuriously thick paper was removed to reveal an exquisitely crafted set of leather thigh sheaths, and a set of magically balanced throwing knives. There were six knives in each sheath, and the hand written information leaflet that came with them explained that they were charmed to be ever sharp and unbreakable, would automatically return to their sheaths when a particular rune on the leather was tapped, and that six of the twelve had a thin vein that could be loaded with a potion or poison if desired.

 

Harry was dazzled by the extravagant and very thoughtful gift, and made sure to express his pleasure to Draco, who beamed happily at the praise.

 

He hesitated slightly, unnoticed by the other boys, over which to open next. He eventually settled for pulling Crabbe and Goyle's gifts out next, and placed them next to each other to show their equal standing. He could feel Blaise's eyes sitting heavily on him, but ignored it. He was sure his message had gotten through.

 

Crabbe had bought him a scarf and glove set, high end and heavily charmed for warmth, durability, and comfort. Harry made his approval clear, and smiled gently at the shy boy. Since Harry had found the problem of his cleft palate - and seriously, what were the chances of such a rare condition showing up in two people Harry knew? - the boy had been devoted to Harry. He'd even managed to lose a bit of weight, since eating was easier now. He was still quiet though, both he and Goyle having decided to maintain their act of being dumb muscle.

 

Goyle's gift was surprisingly humorous, in that he'd given Harry a set of magically loaded dice, a set of playing cards that would tell their owner what hand the other players had been dealt, and a truly gorgeous silk tie that would change colour and pattern to suit whatever outfit you paired it with.

 

Harry glanced up and met Blaise's burning gaze, and quirked an eyebrow. The Italian boy clenched his jaw, and looked away for a moment before determinedly meeting Harry's eyes. Harry allowed a smirk to slowly slide across his lips. Oh yes, Blaise was coming along _nicely_.

 

He plucked out Blaise's gift, and deftly opened it. A beautiful wooden box the size of his hand lay inside the paper. It was inlayed with an intricate pattern, and oiled to a high sheen. The catch was made of a polished stone of some sort rather than the traditional metal, and Harry ran a finger over it curiously. It was smooth, but warm to the touch.

 

Harry went to open it, but cursed when a hidden needle pricked his finger, drawing a drop of blood which smeared onto the stone before being absorbed. The young crime lord lifted furious eyes to Blaise, whipping his wand out and pointing at the drastically paling boy.

 

Warthog was immediately by his side, snarling angrily, hard eyes fixed on the idiot boy who'd dared to do such a thing to her wizard.

 

Draco glanced up, and seeing a trace of red on Harry's finger quickly followed his reaction and pointed his own wand at the boy he'd considered a friend.

 

Crabbe and Goyle didn't understand what was going on, but they knew all they needed to. Harry was pointing his wand at Blaise, and that made Blaise a threat. Throwing themselves off their beds, which conveniently were on either side of Blaise's, they grabbed him and twisted his arms out to the side, each with a hand on one shoulder.

 

Blaise's eyes were wide, and he whined in pain as his shoulders, elbows, and wrist joints were all twisted just shy of dislocation.

 

"It's not what you think!" He shouted desperately. "It's a Blood Key!"

 

"Explain," Harry growled.

 

"Oh Merlin," Blaise whimpered. "You know what my mother is infamous for, right? Well she's been teaching me stuff, and she taught me how to make different poisons! The box has six vials of very illegal poisons inside, and I had the box custom made to protect them! The lock was just taking a sample of your blood to key it to you, I swear! Anytime you open the box it will sample your blood, and if you're not keyed to the box it will destroy the contents!"

 

Harry eyed the panicking boy, before examining the tip of his finger critically. He didn't feel any tell-tale signs of poison or controlling potions, but that didn't mean much. Holding out the finger to Warthog, he let his familiar sniff his bloodied digit carefully.

 

_"It's clean. I can't smell anything on it, but you should have Marcel check you thoroughly just in case; no sense taking chances."_

 

Nodding in agreement, Harry lowered his wand.

 

"Zabini, you will be accompanying Draco and I. Get dressed."

 

Draco caught his eye and raised a questioning eyebrow, before he worked out what Harry was planning. A sharp nod and the blond was throwing his clothes on as quickly as he could.

 

Crabbe and Goyle released Blaise when Harry nodded, and went back to their own beds, digging through their piles of gifts and trusting that Harry had the situation well in hand.

 

Blaise slumped bonelessly onto his bed when the two larger boys let him go, taking a moment to pull himself together. His mother would be horrified at his lack of composure, but if he was perfectly honest, Harry scared him a lot more than the Widow Zabini did. Plus, Harry was here, and she wasn't. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself together as best he could and stripped off his pyjamas, dressing in his day clothes. His hand hovered over his favourite wine red silk button up shirt, before deciding that all black might be more appropriate. Not to mention that if he was going to die - a distinct possibility - he wanted something that wouldn't show the blood too badly. Death was no excuse to look anything less than his best.

 

Harry scrawled a quick note, tearing it from his notebook and placing it in the hidden cache in Warthogs collar. All of her collars had several little pockets the same as Harry's cuffs, however they were hidden in such a way that the puma could carry immense amounts of supplies or correspondence between Vahan's Inner Circle with nobody else any the wiser.

 

A dip of her head, and Warthog was darting out of the room and disappearing into the shadows, making her way to Fortress at top speed. Marcel would be there to greet her wizard the moment he arrived, if she had to drag him there by the scruff.

 

Harry and Draco took an extra moment to gather up their gifts, knowing that Connor was unlikely to allow them to leave before lunch time.

 

Exiting the room, a subdued Blaise trailing half a step behind Draco, the trio traipsed up the stairs and out of the castle. It was early enough that the morning light was still barely above the horizon, and as such there was nobody out and about to see them prod at a knot on the base of the murderous willow tree and dart into a tunnel at its base.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry was gratified to find both of his Hounds, Jinky, Brix, and even Snake waiting for him at the door with Warthog and Marcel. Sweeping past them, he went straight to the infirmary, and sat on a bed, holding his hand out to Marcel to check.

 

Draco followed, a firm hand pressing Blaise onto a chair against the wall and ensuring he didn't panic and run away.

 

"Where's Shot?" Harry asked, not looking away from the scans Marcel was performing.

 

"She's with Alice. With so many excited children there right now she thought an extra pair of hands might be helpful, so she stayed there last night." Alex answered calmly.

 

Harry nodded, and relaxed once Marcel gave him the all clear. Turning a cold gaze onto the still trembling Blaise, he gestured imperiously. Waiting until the boy was standing in front of him, he stared at him intensely, watching the child squirm at the heavy silence.

 

"That was a very stupid thing you did," he eventually stated, "though I do appreciate the gift. Next time, I would suggest warning me beforehand, yes?"

 

Blaise nodded frantically, well aware of the heavy gazes levelled on him by the very scary men and absolutely terrifying House Elves. The one in the strange all black uniform looked like it was ready to tear him limb from limb and leave the mess as a warning, while the older one looked on with disapproving eyes that left him feeling smaller than when his mother attempted the same.

 

"Yes, you're right, I absolutely should have, and I'm very very sorry and please don't kill me because I've decided that whatever it is that you're doing I want in and I can't do that if I'm dead." He heaved in a breath, panting slightly.

 

Draco snorted quietly next to Alex and rubbed a finger over his upper lip to hide his smirk.

 

Harry huffed slightly in amusement.

 

"Well then. If you're serious, Alex here will put a gag spell on you to protect my information, and we can give you a trial period. I have no desire to surround myself with stupid people, so be sure not to make such a foolish mistake again. You won't be warned a second time."

 

Alex drew his wand and flicked it at Blaise, then again to ensure the spell had properly taken hold.

 

"Stay here, Marcel will do a complete scan of you for his files; you'll need his services eventually if you work for me, and a proper baseline is vital. We'll send for you shortly. I'd suggest not leaving that bed without an escort, it won't end well for you if you try." With those ominous words, Harry and his entourage left the room.

 

If Blaise had any doubts that Harry was serious about his warning, the disturbingly bloodthirsty look on Draco's face was enough to convince him that sitting right there on the bed was the most wonderful idea in the world. He had once entertained the idea that the Malfoy Heir would be an ally, but one look at that expression told him everything he needed to know. Draco would never betray Harry, and would gleefully torture or kill even his closest friends with a fervour as great as the most rabid Death Eaters in the last war, on the other boy's whim.

 

Marcel looked down at the Zabini Heir.

 

"Good luck kid; you're going to need it." A flick of his wand, and he began compiling the data on his latest patient.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sir!"

 

Connor's joyous shout rang through the sitting room where Harry and his Hounds, and Draco, were waiting.

 

Harry looked up from the report the Smith golem had handed him, and put it aside. It wasn't urgent, and he was really just killing time until the Corkscrew Menace woke up.

 

"Good morning, Connor. Did you sleep well?" Harry grunted a little in pain as Connor flung himself into his arms, a bony shoulder driving into his gut in the younger boy's enthusiasm.

 

"Yes Sir! I didn't know you were going to be here this early! I mean, I knew you were coming today, you said you would, and you _always_ keep your promises, but I thought it would only be an hour or so before you went back to Hogwarts for lunch! But you did say that we were going to the Nest this afternoon, so I didn't expect to get much time with you today, but you're _here_! We can open our presents together! Will you stay for breakfast after, or do you have to get back to Hogwarts? I know you said that you have to make appearances at meals so they don't realise you're sneaking out of school but I was hoping we might have time to spar a little, and for me to show you the new song I learned on piano! I've been practicing super hard every day, I promise! But I don't mind, it's super fun, and I really love it. Thank you so much for letting me learn!"

 

Harry waited patiently for the noise to stop and for Connor to finally draw breath. It honestly amazed him how large the child's lung capacity was, and the fitter the Hounds training made him, the longer he seemed to be able to talk. It was a little disconcerting, if Harry was going to be honest.

 

"I'll join you for breakfast. I can get away with skipping breakfast at Hogwarts, but I absolutely must be back for lunch. I'll return after and then we will go to the Nest together for the afternoon. Did you want to stay with them for dinner? I won't be able to join, but you're welcome to stay there if you wish. I'm sure the Hounds won't mind, will you?" He directed this last at Sergei and Alex, who both shook their heads. Turning back to Connor, Harry continued. "We'll be having another guest join us for presents and breakfast, but he won't be coming to the Nest, and I'd like you to avoid mentioning it in his presence."

 

Connor nodded vigorously.

 

"I can do that! Or, um, not do that!" The boy looked at the ground as he puzzled through that for a moment, then shrugged slightly and looked back up. "Anything else? Should I not call you Sir?"

 

Harry smiled fondly and ruffled the boy's completely untamed bedhead.

 

"Business as usual otherwise, kiddo. He's on a trial period at the moment, but if he proves himself he'll become one of my Hounds eventually."

 

He could feel Draco staring with burning intensity at the side of his face, and decided that he should probably explain to the blond boy before he got it into his head to do something stupid.

 

"Connor, why don't you go start opening your gifts?" He smiled at the eight year old as he jumped off Harry's lap and practically sprinted to the tree, tearing into his presents. Alex stepped in to ensure he made a note of who gifted what so they could be properly thanked, and Sergei took one look at Harry and Draco before wandering over to the tree as well, leaving them in relative privacy.

 

"Draco," Harry began lowly, eyes still locked on Connor. "Your jealousy is unwarranted. You're also being prepared to become a Hound in the future, though barring an action of supreme stupidity, your position is almost a certainty at this point."

 

The blond drew a sharp breath, surprised. He glanced for a moment at the trio bickering playfully at the tree, before turning his full attention onto Harry.

 

"Really? I mean, I knew you were setting me up for something, but… a Hound?"

 

Harry took his eyes off Connor long enough to give Draco a look that implied less than flattering things about the blonds intelligence.

 

"Obviously. I am significantly younger than the Hounds, and in our line of work age is a disadvantage that will prove fatal eventually. I need to have replacements fully trained and waiting when the inevitable happens and one of my current Inner Circle need to be replaced."

 

Draco stared for a moment, then huffed a disbelieving laugh.

 

"Me, Blaise, Neville, Hermione, Crabbe, Goyle, Dean, the Weasley Twins, and Cedric Diggory. We're the ones you've selected to train up?"

 

Harry cocked his head thoughtfully.

 

"Not exactly. While you're all part of a group I intend to work closely with, not all of you will become my Inner Circle, and fewer still will become Hounds. The others will become Section Heads, or affiliates, depending on how they develop over time."

 

"So who are your Pups?"

 

Harry stared at Draco in confusion.

 

"My what?"

 

Draco smirked.

 

"Pups. You know, Hounds-In-Training? I mean, I suppose you could call us you HIT squad if you liked acronyms, but I think that sends out the wrong message. Either way, we need a name if we're being groomed for this."

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

"Fine, you're Vahan's Pups, though nobody outside my current Inner Circle will be aware of that name."

 

"So who is it?" Draco persisted doggedly.

 

Harry sighed with a faint smile.

 

"We'll discuss it at a later date; today is not the day for business. Jinky?"

 

The black clad elf appeared with a barely noticeable pop, assuming his standard military rest position.

 

"Collect Blaise from the Infirmary please, and guide him here."

 

The elf nodded and disappeared to do as instructed, leaving Harry with a pouting Draco, who was promptly ignored in favour of a bouncing Connor.

 

"Sir! Oh, thank you!" Connor flung himself into Harry's arms, beaming widely. "It's perfect! I love it! Thank you so much!"

 

Harry didn't even try to suppress his smile, and settled himself in a chair near the fire.

 

"You're welcome. Your teacher has reported that you're clearly practicing very hard at piano, and that you're ready to move up a level of difficulty. He suggested these as a challenge for you."

 

Connor was hugging the bundle of books he'd been given, each filled with sheet music for various styles of music adapted for piano. Harry decided that he'd bring up Mr Jinsen's suggestion of entering Connor into competitions at a later date. He knew that Connor loved playing the piano, but he wanted to be able to talk freely with the boy about it, and that wasn't possible with so many ears perked in their direction.

 

The young boy looked up at his Sir again, and immediately noticed that Sir wanted to speak with him privately about something. It didn't seem to be urgent, and there was no tension in Sir's frame to suggest it was unpleasant, so he determined that he'd probably bring it up during his next midnight visit while they did art together.

 

Connor was a smart boy, and had taken Harry's lessons about not trusting anyone fully to heart. The boy knew that he could rely on the Hounds and the rest of the people Harry had approved to care for him, but they were still only employee's, not family. The only person that Connor knew he could trust without reservation was his Sir. His father might once have been in that category as well, but he'd lost that trust when he'd abandoned Connor after he'd woken up from his coma. He knew that he'd regretted it and wanted to take him back, but Sir had protected him and kept him close. After all, if he'd found it all 'too much' and abandoned him once, what was to stop him from doing it again? Sir had never really commented on it one way or the other, but Connor was secretly grateful. He loved his father, but the man had always been too buried in his work to build a truly close relationship with the small boy. Sir was better. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for Connor, and would drop nearly anything if Connor needed him.

 

He looked up from his pile of presents and watched Sir and Draco calmly invite a new dark haired boy to join them. The boy seemed nervous, but did as instructed and sat, accepting a cup of tea. He didn't have any presents of his own, but seemed content to watch the people around him opening theirs.

 

"Connor," Harry called quietly, setting aside his own teacup and letting Connor approach and snuggle into his side while warily eyeing the new addition. "This is Blaise Zabini. He goes to Hogwarts with Draco and I, and is joining the Organisation on a trial basis. Blaise, this is Connor. In the event that something happens when both of you are present, his safety is your highest priority. Draco will go through all the relevant procedures with you."

 

Draco nodded calmly, and took a sip of his hot chocolate.

 

Connor remained tucked into Harry's side, but extended one hand to Blaise.

 

"Nice to meet you."

 

Blaise smiled charmingly and shook the offered hand.

 

"Likewise. I look forward to getting to know you better."

 

* * *

 

 

After a much needed relaxing morning spent playing with Connor, Harry headed back to Hogwarts with Draco and Blaise in tow.

 

To Harry's pleasure, Blaise and Connor seemed to hit it off, and while Blaise still had a long way to go to prove himself, Harry was reasonably confident that the Italian would make an excellent future bodyguard for the younger boy. Perhaps in time he would even become to Connor what Alex was to Harry.

 

Sneaking back into Hogwarts was a disappointingly simple exercise. Sending Warthog ahead to scout, then a quick Disillusionment charm and they were strolling casually back into the castle and directly into the Great Hall for lunch.

 

The normal house tables had been vanished, and instead was a single large table made up for everyone remaining at the school over break. Harry smiled cheerily at his people, and nodded politely to the teachers, before settling himself into his seat. Dean, Neville, and Hermione smiled in welcome, as did Cedric and the Twins, which had the observing teachers doing a double take. It was one thing to hear that the Potter boy had managed to gather friends in every house, but seeing that it crossed years as well was almost beyond belief.

 

In the older students cases, Harry knew that they hadn't stayed for him, but for family reasons. It was just unfortunate that he hadn't had the opportunity to work on them as he might have wished. Still, he had time; these sorts of things couldn't be rushed.

 

Draco settled himself at Harry's right, as usual, but this time Blaise nudged Crabbe along a little and settled himself at Harry's left. This raised a few eyebrows around the table amongst those in the know, but nobody was foolish enough to comment, since their leader clearly wasn't concerned.

 

Harry nodded his thanks as Draco poured him some coffee, and began delicately eating the specialised meal the house elves had sent to his plate, listening quietly to the chatter around him.

 

The teachers were conversing merrily, Hagrid's voice cheerfully ringing out at almost painful volumes as he shared borderline inappropriate jokes with Professors Flitwick and Sprout, with Professor Sinistra doing a poor job of pretending she wasn't sniggering into her mulled wine at some of the more bawdy offerings. Dumbledore and McGonagall were conversing quietly, with Snape listening as he ate his Yorkshire Pudding and offering only the occasional comment, apparently completely disinterested in the entire proceedings. The other teachers seemed intent on finishing their meal as quickly as possible in order to beat a hasty retreat, Quirrel especially.

 

Harry eyed the stuttering teacher from under his lashes as he sipped delicately from his coffee cup. The man was truly an appalling actor; it was almost offensive to be forced to endure his bumbling routine each day. Green eyes drifted up slightly to look at the turban wrapped securely around the man's head.

 

The garish purple fabric reeked of garlic, but despite the almost visible miasma that hovered around it, it wasn't quite enough to mask the sickly sweet scent of rot that underlay it. Harrys nose twitched, but the man was far enough away that the smell didn't quite reach the eleven year olds sensitive orifice. Probably for the best, in hindsight; the aroma would almost certainly put him off his food.

 

Feeling a set of eyes on him, Harry casually glanced around the table. His people - and potentials - were chatting happily, only glancing at him from the corner of their eyes occasionally to check if he needed them for anything. His gaze finally settled on Dumbledore, who's periwinkle blue eyes were locked onto him, twinkling as they observed him with barely concealed suspicion. McGonagall was still muttering into his ear, but he was obviously barely paying attention to the woman. Foolish, really; she was a lot smarter than she appeared, and had a practical cunningness that Dumbledore appeared to lack. Snape was scowling at the remains of his meal, obviously not liking whatever it was the trio had been discussing.

 

Harry carefully avoided making direct eye contact with the Headmaster, and smiled cheerfully in his general direction. He took a moment of savage delight at the frustration the Headmaster must be feeling at his casual avoidance of a Legilimency probe. Harry had been training in Occlumency for several years, but being as young as he was, he could still barely manage rudimentary shields. It simply wasn't possible to fully master the art until a witch or wizards magic settled after magical maturity. The mental organisation and emotional control that formed the basis of the art was wildly useful, however, and was easily achieved by a dedicated student of any age.

 

Finishing the last few bites of his meal, Harry nudged Draco and Blaise and muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

 

"I think a snowball fight about now would be an excellent way of working off such a heavy meal, wouldn't you? I'll leave recruitment to you. I'll be waiting outside."

 

Standing, he calmly strolled outside, ignoring the Headmasters heavy gaze on his back.

 

A few minutes later had all the children remaining in the castle gathered around Harry as they divided into teams. Grabbing Draco's sleeve, he smiled deviously as his eyes tracked a certain unwary Professor walking across the courtyard.

 

"Spread the word to our group; I'll pay 50 galleons to anyone who knocks Quirrels turban off. 100 if they can bring me proof of what's hidden under it, without getting caught. I'll be out this afternoon, so if anyone comes looking for me, run interference until dinner time."

 

Draco nodded with a gleeful smile, and immediately slipped away to perform his task.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry walked into The Nest with Alex, Sergei, Shot, and Connor following him like overly attentive ducklings. They were greeted by a raucous gaggle of children, who quickly relieved them of their gift wrapped burdens, scampering en masse into the sitting room that had been temporarily converted into Holiday Hell.

 

"Greg, Alice, Marcel," Harry nodded in greeting, shaking hands with the men and giving Alice a brief kiss on the cheek. "Is everything well?"

 

All three nodded, falling into step with Harry's entourage as they followed the children.

 

"Everything's fine," Alice smiled gently. "The children have been very excited to see you today, so I hope you're prepared to be mauled by sugar demons."

 

Harry smiled wryly and shrugged.

 

"I'll find a way to wear them out. And if they get too much, I can always hand them back to you."

 

"No need to get nasty," Alice pouted playfully while the other adults chuckled.

 

"But I'm an evil crime lord, don't you know," the small boy jested back. "I have a Task Force after my head to prove it! So surely such nefarious deeds come under my purview? In fact, wouldn't it be a requirement for someone in my position?"

 

Alice took a moment for a dramatic 'thoughtful' pause.

 

"You're right. You are a truly despicable human being. The worst of the worst. I don't know why I ever thought otherwise. I bet you get up to all sorts of Machiavellian debauchery like, ah," she trailed off, floundering. "Sorry, I've got nothing. That sentence kind of ran away without me." She smiled sheepishly.

 

The rest of the group sniggered, entering the room where the children waited.

 

"I liked 'Machiavellian debauchery'," Harry offered with a grin. "I'm not entirely certain what such a thing would entail, but it sounds positively thrilling!"

 

Alice rolled her head back with a groan.

 

"No. Never. I give up."

 

Harry grinned.

 

"Unlikely. I think this is more of a tactical retreat for the moment."

 

"Like 'Advancing to the Rear'?" Connor interjected. "Halflung the Unstoppable did that in the Second Great Goblin War at the Battle of the Forge in 1731!"

 

Harry cut the boy a sharp glance, wordlessly reminding the eight ("almost nine!") year old to watch his tongue in public.

 

Connor grimaced apologetically, then quickly pasted a cheerful smile on his face and ran over to the other children.

 

Harry sighed. Connor was still in love with all things Goblin, and was picking up Gobbledegook at an almost frightening pace. He'd managed to charm both Gutshank and Riftweld into providing him with several textbooks on Goblin culture and history, and was well on his way to being accepted as a Clan Friend - a feat that not even Harry had considered possible. It was unusual that the boy would slip up in a muggle environment, though in hindsight he was likely worn out from all the disturbed sleep and excitement of the lead up to Christmas.

 

Shaking himself back to awareness when he felt a small hand take his, Harry smiled down at Elise, who was gently towing him to sit beside her on her pink Barbie beanbag. Nobody but Elise and her Sir were allowed to sit there, or so Alice had informed him during a previous visit.

 

"You look very pretty today, Elise," Harry murmured, helping the girl straighten out the fairy wings strapped to her back so she could settle comfortably.

 

Elise blushed, smiling shyly.

 

"Thank you, I like this dress."

 

"Isn't that the one I got you for your birthday this year?" The boy asked, eying the other children warily as they dove into the piles of presents and began handing them out.

 

Elise lit up, ignoring the ever growing pile next to her beanbag.

 

"Yes! You got me this one, which I call my fairy princess dress because it's so shiny and matches my wings; and a green Chinese one with the gold dragon stitched on it! I wore that one when Alice took us to Chinatown for the festival, I don't remember which one, and the shop keepers gave me free sweets because they said I looked really cute!"

 

Harry smiled at her tolerantly.

 

"Well, you're certainly that, Princess," he charmed, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "Would the young lady perhaps like to open her presents now?"

 

Elise squeaked, and turned to her gifts in order to hide her bright red face.

 

"Please excuse me, Princess, I need to do the rounds with everyone else too." Harry smiled and dropped a kiss on the top of her dark hair. "I'll come and see you again in a little while."

 

As Harry stood, he caught the matching smirks that Alice and Shot both sported. A half-hearted glare set the girls to giggling, whispering to each other in a way that made Harry eye them warily; nothing good could ever come of those expressions.

 

Lizzie had settled herself in the corner of the room, watching the other children babbling excitedly about whatever amazing gift Sir had given them. Despite Alice's urging to clean herself up, she was still dressed in an oil stained jumpsuit, though she'd deigned to undo the top half and fold it down until she could knot the arms around her waist. Absently kicking her heavy boots against the leg of the coffee table, she barely twitched when Harry settled next to her.

 

"I hear your car is nearly restored," Harry opened.

 

Lizzie shrugged, and looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her Hello Kitty singlet.

 

"Yeah. Still need some parts, but. Greg's been helping with the heavy stuff, but he lets me do all the actual work."

 

Harry tilted his head, listening as the young blonde began talking about her project. He personally knew next to nothing about mechanics, but the joy on Lizzie's face as she warmed to her topic was unmistakable.

 

"Greg and Alice have been keeping me updated on your progress. They've both commented on your aptitude for this kind of work. Is it something you'd like to do for a career when you're older?"

 

Lizzie stared in confusion.

 

"Is that something I can do? I thought I had to work for the Boss?"

 

Harry smiled gently, pleased that even in such a secure setting she was smart enough to not name names. Settling back into his seat more comfortably, he shrugged one shoulder.

 

"It's not a requirement to work for the Boss. If you don't want anything to do with us, we can make arrangements to find you a new home. But there are different ways to work for us; not everyone is going to be like Brian and Sophie. Those two get as much of a thrill from breaking through High Security Systems as you do from working on cars. But I assume you're aware that I have final say over placement of our people?"

 

Rubbing a hand through her messy blond bob cut, Lizzie frowned.

 

"Well, yeah, everyone knows that. You're the Boss. The only one who can overrule you is the Big Boss, and everyone knows that he wouldn't bother; he leaves all the people stuff to you so he doesn't have to reveal himself."

 

Smiling wryly, Harry took her hand and tugged her closer, letting her lean against his shoulder and rest her head.

 

"Close enough, I suppose. Anyway, my point is that while I don't usually have any direct interaction with the people in the network, the Ghosts and Nestlings are a special group that I pay personal attention to. You're special. I have a particular interest in developing your skills and talents."

 

He could feel Lizzie stiffening against his side, and continued quietly before she could jump to the wrong conclusion.

 

"There are a lot of ways to be useful to the Boss, and where possible I want to help you guys achieve something that makes you happy."

 

"What does that have to do with me liking cars though?" Lizzie mumbled, trying to put the pieces together. While gifted with mechanics, she was far from the genius of the boy next to her.

 

"Lizzie, I know you're not particularly interested in school, and that's fine. I was thinking about asking a contact of mine to place you in an apprenticeship once you turned fifteen. The Boss approved my plan to have a dedicated garage for our company vehicles, and I can't think of anyone I'd trust more to work on my cars than you."

 

Shooting upright, the girl gaped at him.

 

"You mean it? I could just work at the garage after I turn fifteen?" She gasped, clutching tightly onto his arm.

 

Wincing slightly, Harry tapped her fingers to get her to ease the death grip she had on his limb.

 

"Well, there are a few conditions you'd be required to meet, of course, but assuming you put the work in to meet them all, I'd want you to run the place. I'll assign you an assistant to manage the office and help you with the paperwork, but you'd be in charge for all intents and purposes. Over time, once you've proven yourself capable, I'll use you to train up a few other kids like you, then have them set up satellite branches. Is that something that would interest you?"

 

Lizzie looked up at him, eyes shining brightly with joy and adoration.

 

"What conditions? I'll do anything!"

 

Internally, Harry couldn't help but be filled with smug satisfaction. The girl was his, completely loyal.

 

"I'll have the details sent to Alice to go through with you, but as a general outline, you'll be required to maintain a certain grade average in your core classes, and over the next few years you'll be required to take basic business classes to make sure you're prepared for the realities of running your own business.  Alice and whomever you're Apprenticed to will need to sign off on you and your work, and I expect you to behave in a way that I can be proud of. You'll also be expected to ask for help if you need it; we want you to succeed, but we don't want you to struggle any more than you need to."

 

Lizzie threw herself at Harry, wrapping around him while babbling happily about how she would work her very best and make him proud, and become worthy of having her own shop.

 

Harry patiently patted her back until she calmed enough for him to pry her off him. He shivered internally; not only had some of the grease residue from her clothes transferred onto his clothes, but he still wasn't overly fond of being touched.

 

Taking the envelope Alex discretely handed him, Harry offered it to the excited girl.

 

"Greg mentioned to me that once your car is fully restored, it'll need a proper paint job, but that we don't have the equipment available for that here. Merry Christmas."

 

Lizzie carefully opened the festively decorated envelope and boggled at the slips of paper inside.

 

"Seriously? You got me a booking at JJ's for a custom paint job next month?" She squealed in excitement. "How? I mean, his work is the _best_ , and it's nearly _impossible_ to get a booking with him!"

 

Harry smiled at her joy.

 

"He owed me a favour; and when I told him about the gifted young girl who'd restored a 1970 Ford Mustang Boss 302 almost entirely on her own, well, he was curious to meet you. He has a soft spot for that model apparently, and flat out refused to let anyone else paint it."

 

Lizzie looked like she was about to pass out from excitement.

 

"So," Harry concluded, "I suggest you work with Greg to finish up anything else it needs before your appointment." He smiled, accepting her over excited hug before she bounced off the couch and practically ran from the room, yelling something about needing her notebook.

 

Greg huffed, watching her go.

 

"You realise that you just doubled my workload for the next month, right?"

 

Harry straightened his clothes, brushing a few stray bits of lint from his pants.

 

"If you need extra hands to cope, let Alice know. I want you to assist Lizzie as much as you feel is appropriate. I don't want her getting overexcited and injuring herself."

 

Greg nodded with a smile.

 

"No problem. Want me to grab you some snacks? It looks like you're about to be holding court."

 

Harry eyed the kids who were waiting with barely restrained impatience to talk to him.

 

"I would appreciate that, yes."

 

* * *

 

 

Harry tucked Connor into bed, gently smoothing a curl of hair off his forehead. The boy was so exhausted that he couldn't even stay awake long enough to make it to dinner time.

 

"Did you have fun today?" He asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

 

Connor nodded sleepily.

 

"I especially liked seeing you this morning, and meeting Blaise. Do you think Blaise would like to be my friend?"

 

"I'm sure he would. Maybe, if he proves himself, he can work with you like Alex works for me. Would you like that? Or is there someone else that you would prefer trained for that role?"

 

Connor shook his head sleepily.

 

"I don't know. I'll answer that when you think we can trust him."

 

Harry smiled genuinely, pleased.

 

"That's very wise of you. Good choice."

 

Straightening the blankets around the smaller boy and tucking him in snugly, Harry gave him a final kiss on the forehead, then left his heir to sleep.

 

Wandering slowly down the hallway, the young crime lord took some time to think over the day. He'd been able to spend a small amount of one-on-one time with all of the Nestlings and Ghosts, and he was pleased that his absence didn't appear to have negatively affected his relationships with the children. The constant back and forth of letters was obviously helping, along with the carefully displayed respect and deference from their carers. As he'd explained to Lizzie, he didn't bother to bond so closely with the bulk of his network, but the children in his care were a different story. Each of the ones who elected to stay in his homes were fast tracked into whichever position suited them best, and would eventually oversee their own teams, or even entire sections of the organisation. He'd spoken truthfully to Alice though, none of the children would be forced to work for him. That said, earning their loyalty and gratitude now would pay dividends in the future, even if it was only someone turning a blind eye, or providing information.

 

He sighed heavily and stretched, rolling his neck to relieve the tension. He was utterly exhausted. The months since starting school had been draining in a way that far exceeded the usual stress he subjected himself to. Even though he'd shifted the bulk of the organisations daily operations to his Hounds and the Smith golem, he still had a lot of work to go over, things that only he could do. Coupled with his school work load, and the necessary networking amongst the students, he was beyond exhausted. He'd already had to sacrifice several hours per week of training, as well as cancelling some of his regular meeting with his contacts. Sightings of Tiny around town had been sparse lately, something which he'd been informed was driving Task Force Merlin frantic as they tried to figure out what had changed.

 

While he usually kept a rather odd sleeping schedule to accommodate his work, he was currently only managing between two and four hours a night, and it simply wasn't sustainable. Hopefully Sergei had been able to find a solution amongst his contacts, preferably before Harry collapsed from overwork. He could feel his health suffering already, so he didn't think such a situation was as far off as he'd like.

 

Entering his office, Harry slumped into his chair with a groan of appreciation as the leather seat moulded itself to his back and thighs, the Comfort Charms working their magic to ease his tension.

 

Jinky appeared silently at his elbow, and placed a small platter on his desk. Disappearing, he reappeared a moment later with a tumbler of scotch.

 

"Sir?" Alex asked as the Hounds and Shot entered the room. Marcel followed them a moment later, all of them looking a little worse for wear. The afternoon at the Nest had been as pleasant as it could be when surrounded by ten over excited children, but it was still beyond exhausting.

 

"If you're about to give me work to do, the answer is no."

 

Alex smiled faintly.

 

"Actually, Sir, I was going to suggest that you take the night off. There are decisions to be made, but they can wait for another night."

 

"Good," Harry grumbled before pausing. "Did we ever get around to dealing with the Acolytes we took from that farm in… wherever it was? The ones that took Dudley that time." He rubbed his eyes, his thoughts too fuzzy from exhaustion to come together with any higher degree of coherency.

 

"Most of them, Sir. We still have a handful that we thought you might want to keep for other purposes."

 

"Whatever. I'm too tired to even think about it right now." The raven haired boy began to pick at the platter in front of him, grateful for Jinky's thoughtfulness. He'd provided a selection of bite sized pieces of fruit, cubes of cheese, thinly sliced deli meats, crackers, and to Harry's amusement, what appeared to be some sort of potato mash wrapped in ham and skewered on a toothpick. Strange, perhaps, but unexpectedly delicious.

 

"You're in luck, Boss," Sergei grunted.

 

Harry hummed questioningly, not looking up from his plate even as he chewed a cube of cheese.

 

"I said I'd look into what I could find to help you get some more sleep, and I've got something."

 

At that, Harry looked up, his undivided attention on the Russian.

 

"It took quite some doing, and I had to kill an Unspeakable to get my hands on it, but my contact didn't lie. The basement freaks use these as standard equipment, so they're thoroughly tested and have no adverse effects that have been detected since they were introduced eighty years ago." The hulking blond placed a plain ring box on the desk.

 

Harry opened the box, and raised an eyebrow at the contents. Inside was nestled a ring made of some sort of black material. It looked to be a combination of stone and metal, and yet didn't comfortably look like either. It was designed along a similar theme to the muggle 'worry rings', however instead of the upper band spinning freely, it seemed to click along in set increments.

 

"How does it work?" The boy asked curiously, reluctant to touch the strange material until he understood the device he'd just been given.

 

Sergei shrugged, and took a sip of his coffee.

 

"Basically, it causes some sort of time dilation. You put it on, set it for the required time, and when you activate it, your body is put into a forced sleep for that amount of time."

 

Harry frowned.

 

"And how does that help me?"

 

Sergei grinned wolfishly.

 

"Well, as far as your mind and body is concerned, you've gotten a full night sleep, but in reality you'll only sleep about ten minutes for every hour you've programmed."

 

Blinking in surprise, Harry glanced at the ring again.

 

"So, I can get nine hours sleep in an hour and a half? What's the catch?"

 

"Ah, well, it's a bit of a kicker. While you're asleep, you can't wake on your own, and you're completely unaware of the world around you until the ring disengages at the end of the set period."

 

"So he would be completely vulnerable while under its influence?" Alex asked, his posture screaming his hesitance.

 

Sergei grimaced and put his empty mug aside.

 

"I told you the downside was a kicker. There is a safety built into it though, but you don't want to use it if there's any other option." Seeing he still had everyone's attention, he rubbed his huge hand over his face, scratching the light coating of stubble that dusted his chin. "You can set a failsafe password and pair it to a person you trust. It will only work for them, and all they need to do is say it and you'll wake up. Problem is that being forced out of the time dilation will cause a backlash onto the person wearing the ring. You'll be up and functional, but it'll hurt in ways you can't imagine."

 

Harry raised an eyebrow, still staring at the ring.

 

"So in summation, I can get a full night sleep in an hour and a half, but I'm completely helpless while I do, unless I'm forcibly brought out of it in a way that will inspire my future torture sessions, yes?"

 

"Basically, yes." Sergei grunted. "I considered a Time Turner, or similar, but the cost to your body and lifespan isn't worth it for regular use. Got a hold of a couple anyway, just in case, but I thought this might be a better option for you. After all, the Unspeakables all use these as soon as they join the Department of Mysteries."

 

Harry lifted the ring from the box and slid it onto his thumb, watching warily while it automatically adjusted to fit him perfectly.

 

"Warthog," he called, tugging lightly on their bond in case she was out of hearing range.

 

_"You rang, My Lord?"_ The big cat snarked as she slid out of the shadows.

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

"I need to bond a password to you for this ring. It's an emergency wake up failsafe in case I'm threatened in a way you can't defend me from. Last resort only, since I'd rather not deal with a magical and temporal backlash if it's avoidable."

 

He concentrated and opened up the relevant part of his memory for her to access. He still couldn't speak directly to her through their Familiar Bond, but with effort he could allow her to access certain short memories. His Hounds had assured him that over time the bond would continue to strengthen, and eventually they would be able to share memories back and forth as easily as breathing. It would just take several years before they reached that point.

 

_"Yeah, ok. Dibs picking the password!"_

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

"Fine; just pick one now."

 

_"I choose… Wake up!"_

 

"No. Choose something you won't accidentally say while bitching to yourself while I'm unconscious."

 

_"'Tupac was overrated'?"_

 

"I agree, but no. Be serious, please."

 

Warthog groaned mentally.

 

_"Fine. How about… Enliven! I won't say that by accident!"_

 

"Yeah, that'll do. Sergei, how do I bond the password to her?"

 

"Put a drop of her blood on it. She needs to be thinking or saying the password the moment the blood touches the ring. You'll only get one shot, so be careful."

 

Harry nodded and turned to Warthog who sat next to him and obligingly raised a massive paw, resting it on her wizards knee.

 

"Ready?" He asked her.

 

Warthog ducked her head, and began chanting the word over and over in her mind, concentrating exclusively on it and what it would do when stated.

 

Harry drew his wand and used it to carefully prick her paw, lightly massaging the pad with his hand to draw the blood forth. He waited until she began her little chant again, and carefully dripped the blood onto the ring. It absorbed seamlessly into the black material, before a dull flash of light rippled across the spinning band.

 

"That should be it then," he murmured, and gently healed her paw, checking to make sure there was no lingering soreness or bruising.

 

Warthog watched his quiet fussing with fond amusement, making no effort to pull away. Her wizard had been so stressed lately that she couldn't bring herself to deny him. Her boy drove himself into the ground looking after his responsibilities, but he still managed to find a few minutes every day to give her as much attention and affection as he could manage.

 

She agreed with his assessment that no matter how much he trusted his Inner Circle, they were still only employees, but that she - as an extension of himself - was the only one that he could trust without reservation. No matter the situation, he could rely on her to never betray him. It was telling how much he valued this ability to trust her that he made sure to never take her for granted or neglect her needs.

 

"Sir, it's getting late. You should head back to Hogwarts before you're missed." Alex regretfully broke the quiet moment.

 

"Of course; thank you all for your hard work today." Keying open one of the locked drawers, he withdrew four Gringotts official coin pouches, and handed them out. "Merry Christmas. I gave you your gifts earlier, but this is your bonus for the extra work you've all been putting in lately. The timing is coincidental, I assure you," Harry smirked, then stood, lightly scratching behind Warthog's ears and earning himself a rumbling purr. "I'm off to eat dinner and try out my new toy. Enjoy your evening."

 

* * *

 

 

As Harry opened his eyes exactly one hour and forty minutes after activating his ring for the first time, he decided then and there that this device was his most valuable possession, and would never leave his person. Stretching, he rolled onto his side, burrowing down into his pillow. He could feel Warthog dozing at the end of his bed, but since she wasn't making any effort to oust him from his fluffy cocoon he felt no guilt at luxuriating for a change.

 

Blinking lazily, he found his gaze drawn to Draco's desk. The blond boy was working with quiet efficiency at a pile of papers that looked to have little to do with schoolwork, and given the determined set of his jaw, Harry assumed it was probably notes about the things Draco would be covering with Blaise.

 

"Relax, Draco; it's not all on you," Harry mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow his face was currently half buried in.

 

Draco started, only barely managing to lift his quill in time to avoid a line dragged across the page.

 

"Merlin, Harry! I thought you'd be asleep for hours yet! With how tired you've been lately, when you said you were taking the night off I thought you'd get a decent amount of rest!"

 

Harry smiled drowsily.

 

"Sergei found a solution to my little sleeping problem. I've had more than enough rest now."

 

Draco frowned, but didn't comment. If Harry wanted him to know the details, he'd tell him; after all, it didn't do to be too curious about the young raven haired boy's doings if you valued your… everything.

 

"If you say so. Did you want me to bring you anything? The House Elves have put out some snacks in the common rooms."

 

"Thanks," Harry smiled, finally dragging himself into a sitting position in the bed. "Sounds great. I'll get something more substantial from Jinky later if I get hungry."

 

With a quick nod, Draco cast a privacy ward around his desk, and darted out to get some snacks for his friend.

 

_"Since you decided not to work tonight, we should take some time to explore the castle more. I can show you some of the secrets I've managed to find while we're at it."_ Warthog offered.

 

"Sounds good. Ah, thank you, Draco." Harry accepted the small plate of sugar cookies, and a large mug of what appeared to be peppermint hot chocolate with a generous handful of marshmallows melting on the top.

 

Sipping his drink with pleasure, Harry hummed and nibbled a cookie, relishing the feeling of being rested and fully alert for a change. It had been so long that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to not have his limbs feel heavy and his thoughts muddied.

 

"Do you have a minute?" Draco asked tentatively.

 

"Sure," Harry responded cheerfully. "Grab a seat." He gestured with a cookie to the end of the bed, and waited patiently while his future 2IC settled himself around Warthog's stubbornly unmoving form.

 

"So, I've been thinking," Draco began hesitantly. "I know it's a bit presumptuous, but given that I'm being trained to take over from Alex when the time comes, and the other Pups are too, I suppose," he added grudgingly, "that it might be worth having Alex train us? Doing jobs for you and following you around and stuff is important, but there's lots of details that Alex could teach me, so that I can step in smoothly when I, you know, take over?"

 

Harry nibbled a cookie with a small smile.

 

"Excellent idea, Draco," he praised. He watched in amusement as the other boy puffed up with pride. No matter how much the boy had changed since coming under Harry's influence, he was still a sucker for praise if it came from someone he respected. Harry had of course already thought of this, and begun mentally assigning his new 'pups' to the most fitting mentor, but he was pleased that Draco was taking the initiative when it came to his position. "I agree that you should do that, but not yet. Alex and Sergei have too much on their plates right now as it is, but perhaps by our second year things will have eased up enough to arrange time for proper mentoring?"

 

Draco nodded, pleased that his idea had been received so well.

 

"Is there anything I can do between now and then to help prepare?"

 

Dusting his fingers off, Harry licked a few lingering crumbs from the side of his mouth.

 

"Study ahead as much as you can, and help the rest of the Pups do the same. When the mentoring starts, you'll have less time for homework, and I'll be very disappointed if your studies suffer. Actually, while I'm thinking of it, I intend to release some Official Harry Potter study materials when I have results worth showing off. I'd like you and the rest of our group to start compiling study guides for all the subjects that we take. Have Hermione help you; and yes, you can have her do the heavy lifting as far as collation and organisation goes. I want you to focus on content review. The material needs to have enough background and cultural information for muggleborns to fill in the blanks, and for purebloods to get _accurate_ muggle information where relevant. Everything must be as unbiased as humanly possible. Once you've put together guides for first year, and my other people have checked it over, we'll distribute them amongst our group. I expect everyone in our group to hold the top places in our year once that happens."

 

Draco blinked in surprise at the scope and ambition of the project, but nodded in agreement.

 

"How long do we have to do this, and do you want Hermione to know it's an order from you?"

 

"Yes, let her know, but you're to be the point of contact for it. You need to get used to people reporting to you on projects." He noticed the gleam in Draco's eye, and took a moment to nip any problems in the bud while he could. "That's _not_ to say you can boss everyone around indiscriminately."

 

Draco deflated slightly but nodded in acknowledgement.

 

"Alright, if that's everything, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my night off and take a wander around the castle."

 

"OK," Draco stood, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, before you go, I found one of your presents from this morning. It seems to have fallen on the floor before you woke up and gotten kicked half under the bed. Did you want it now?"

 

Harry shrugged and nodded, holding out his hand for the package.

 

It was soft and floppy, and wrapped in garish purple paper with animated silver constellations. Checking the tag, Harry frowned slightly.

 

_Your father left this in my possession before he died; I think it's time it was returned to you. Use it well._

 

Inside was a slippery fabric, thin and sliding over his fingers like water. Harry raised an eyebrow; an Invisibility Cloak was not easily obtained, and they usually only lasted a mere handful of years before losing their effectiveness. This cloaks invisibility properties were the most perfect he'd ever seen, and if it had belonged to his father then the magic on it should have well and truly dissipated by now. And yet…

 

There was no way this was an ordinary Invisibility Cloak.

 

Harry got up and swiftly put the cloak into a secured box that was stored in his trunk. He would need to thoroughly investigate it later; there was no way he was using an atypical Cloak that had been anonymously gifted to him until he'd had his people check every inch of the damn thing for any surprises. Knowing his luck, someone had put Compulsions and Tracking Charms on it. The lurid wrapping and angled, loopy writing had him putting his money on Dumbledore.

 

Swiftly throwing on his usual suit but forgoing the tie - that he _still_ couldn't knot on his own - Harry shrugged a heavy robe over the top to shield him from the winter chill. He looped the scarf from Crabbe around his neck and tucked the gloves into his pocket, glancing around the room idly.

 

It was so nice to not be completely exhausted for a change.

 

"I'm off," he announced quietly. "Don't wait up, there's no need to cover for me."

 

Draco nodded, and turned back to his paperwork, dipping his quill and jotting down a note industriously.

 

_"Finally,"_ Warthog grouched, sliding off the bed and padding quietly over to the door.

 

Harry smiled but didn't reply, merely opening the door and following his Familiar through the Common Room and out into the Dungeon while she kept up a steady stream of complaints in his mind; commenting on everything from the lingering stench of Nott's cologne to the unfairness of the restriction on hunting the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. There may also have been a string of insults aimed at the 'KFC bird' that had apparently decided that teasing her was a brilliant pastime when the Headmaster wasn't using him as an overly ostentatious mail owl. Or carrier pigeon, as she smugly commented, given that owls were useful and apparently Phoenix's were merely tasty.

 

"How would you know?" Harry wondered idly as he strolled along behind her. "To the best of my knowledge you've never eaten Phoenix. Actually, that begs the question, given that a Phoenix is immortal and merely bursts into the only flame hot enough to compare to Dragon flame when it's at the end of its lifecycle, in the event that you _did_ manage to eat it in its entirety quickly enough, would it simply combust inside your stomach? I mean I've heard of heartburn before, but I doubt it's usually that literal."

 

Warthog gave him a filthy look over her shoulder.

 

_"Still going to eat it."_

 

Glancing at his watch, Harry noted that it was a little before midnight, and took a moment to apply a Disillusionment spell to himself in a portrait free corridor. Curfew may be relaxed for the older years over the holidays, but there was no such leniency for a wandering first year.

 

The bonded pair wandered the halls a while longer, chatting quietly and enjoying the down time.

 

"That's true, I suppose," Harry muttered, "but what if Hagrid has a real baby face under all that hair? That would be immensely disturbing, and I'm not sure that shaving him in his sleep is worth the risk, besides, a mohawk would make him look like a demented rooster."

 

Their conversation fizzled as they heard muffled voices coming from a nearby corridor.

 

"You filthy fags! Why the fuck _wouldn't_ I tell everyone about you? You're freaks! It's bad enough you're both guys, but _together_? You deserve everything you get!"

 

Harry and Warthog immediately changed direction, following the voices that were now pleading with the first to not say anything. By the sounds of things, it wasn't going well. A few thuds and scuffling sounds told Harry that things had started to get physical, and a grin twitched over his lips. It was rare for wizards to use fists over wands, but it was hilarious watching them try.

 

Rounding the corner, Harry was treated to the sight of the Weasley Twins scuffling about with what looked to be a fifth year Hufflepuff. He wasn't one that Harry was familiar with, but he was impressed at the two third year's temerity. Despite their opponent being larger and stronger, the two were working together to keep him somewhat contained. If only they weren't standing at the top of a flight of stairs.

 

Harry could see how this would end, and smiled as he rested one shoulder against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, folding his arms across his chest. Warthog sat next to him, using her unique ability to blend into the shadows while they waited for the inevitable.

 

It happened exactly as Harry expected. One twist, one shove, a fumbled step, and then the unfortunate fifth year was staring sightlessly at Harry's feet as his corpse began to cool.

 

The twins stood motionless at the top of the stairs, eyes locked on their former schoolmate's body in mute horror.

 

Harry waited patiently for the moment to sink in, then flicked his finger to dispel his invisibility charm.

 

"Oh dear," he tutted quietly. "Looks like you boys might need some help."

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

The Weasley twins stared down at the dark haired first year in horror. This couldn't be happening. They'd just been fooling around, playing gay chicken out of boredom, when Finkley had found them and jumped to the wrong conclusion. And now he was dead at the bottom of the stairs, and Harry freaking Potter was staring up at them like it was no big deal.

 

"Oh dear, looks like you boys might need some help."

 

George could feel Fred trembling next to him, and honestly, he didn't feel much better. Their entire lives were ruined. He didn't even know how it happened, not really. Everything sort of blurred into a panicked mess in his mind. Did he trip? Did he or Fred push him deliberately? Why couldn't he _remember_? His breath was coming faster, the edges of his vision beginning to darken. Clutching desperately at his brother's hand, he hunched over, spots swimming before his eyes.

 

A sharp slap to his face snapped him out of his spiralling panic, and he looked up to see a blank faced Harry staring down at where he was crouched pathetically on the floor. A quick glance showed Fred in a similar state with a matching hand print on his cheek.

 

"Breathe." Harry ordered. "We don't have much time to cover this up."

 

George stared up, feeling a ray of hope breaking through his shocked despair.

 

"Co-cover up?" He whispered.

 

"Did you _want_ it to get out? I can't see anything good coming from that, so if that was your plan, it's a shitty one."

 

"What do we do?" Fred clutched at Harry's cloak desperately. "I don't know what happened, please, help us!"

 

Harry's face softened angelically and he lightly rested a hand on Fred's head, the saviour and supplicant in benediction. Feeling a mirroring hand grasp the other side of his cloak, he rested a hand on George's hair as well, fingers sliding down to cup the base of their skulls comfortingly.

 

"Everything will be ok," he soothed. "Just do what I tell you to, and everything will be fine, I promise."

 

George could feel tears welling in his eyes as he stared up at Harry; he knew Fred was feeling the same. He didn't know how this eleven year old boy could be so calm in a situation like this, but he had no doubt that if Harry said it would be fine, then everything would be. He felt a sudden and tremendous surge of loyalty towards the boy, and in response, the magic he and Fred shared stirred in a way they'd never experienced before, a dizzying sense of gratitude and relief washing through them. It churned restlessly, almost as if reaching out to the Potter Heir in response to his aura of calm control. Their magic was practically demanding they swear their loyalty on the spot, and it was everything the twins could do to wrestle it under control.

 

"Firstly, we need to move the body before anyone stumbles onto it. We also need to stage the corpse."

 

Eying the body critically, Harry hummed.

 

"He seems the outdoorsy type. Do either of you know where he used to frequent?"

 

Fred cleared his throat, realising he still had hold of Harry's cloak and scrambling to his feet with a blush.

 

"Ah, he used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to collect potions ingredients. He'd sell them to the other students; we used to help him a lot in exchange for supplies for our pranks."

 

The _'since we couldn't afford to buy them'_ was left unsaid.

 

Harry nodded.

 

"Perfect. When he's noticed as missing, if asked, and _only if asked,_ you will say that when you bumped into him on your way to the kitchens for a midnight snack, he told you he was going to collect some of these ingredients, but you don't know where. You offered to go with him, but he declined. You will say that he seemed very excited and mentioned something about it being rare, but that's all you know. Do _not_ expand beyond that. You _will not_ deviate from this story. Also, be aware that the Headmaster is a Legilimens; I suggest you begin reading up on Occlumency immediately if you haven't already."

 

Pausing, he tapped a bead on his cuff, and withdrew two business cards. Handing them to the redheads, he lightly gripped their wrists reassuringly.

 

"If you ever need help and can't reach me, take these to Snape; he knows what to do." Straightening, he quirked a small smile. "Now, put all of this nastiness out of your mind, pay a visit to the kitchens and enjoy a nice midnight snack. You should maybe bring some back to the common room for the other Gryffindor's to see you eating."

 

The twins looked at the cards, noting the stylised V on a plain shield on a white card. Their eyes darted up to Harry in shock, understanding the value of what they'd just been offered. They had no idea where Harry fit into the crime lord's budding empire, but they knew what was on the table, and how much of a risk Harry had taken in revealing his connection. It was reassuring, knowing that he'd offered up something so potentially damaging to even the scales. He knew their secret, and now they knew his. Tucking the cards away carefully, the boys nodded and headed off to the kitchens as instructed.

 

Harry watched them go, smirking faintly. Honestly, he couldn't have planned this better himself; the twins were his.

 

Turning to the patiently waiting Warthog, he ambled down the stairs, casually stepping over the Hufflepuff's body.

 

_"In the absence of pigs, will we use Acromantulas?"_ Warthog asked dryly.

 

"Yep," Harry popped the p, rummaging through the dead boy's pockets in the hope of finding something worth scavenging. "I was thinking of nabbing one while we're there, as a present for Snape. Do you think you can Slide carrying both me and it?"

 

Warthog hummed, watching as her wizard shrunk the looted corpse and stuffed it casually in his pocket, the boy's liberated wand going in another one.

 

_"Probably, as long as you don't go for a big one. I might need to draw more from you than usual though, and it won't be a pleasant trip for you."_

 

Harry nodded.

 

"Alright. Will you be able to Slide to me from the castle if I'm that far away?"

 

_"Yeah. The longer the distance the more tiring it is, and I honestly don't like doing more than short trips, but I can do it in a pinch if you have the reserves for me to tap. Go do your thing, and call me when you get there. I'll Slide to you, pick you up, and bring you and your prize back. Just don't expect me to do more than sleep after that."_

 

"Isn't that all you ever do?" Harry retorted with a cheeky smile, deftly avoiding the playful swipe of her claws. "Alright. I'll call you shortly. Go put Draco to bed or something."

 

Warthog sniggered and ambled off to do just that.

 

Harry disillusioned himself and quickly made his way out of the castle and across the grounds, slipping into the forest without incident. Out of sight of the castle, he removed the charm and made his way deeper, his cloak pulled tight and his hood up. He was a lot smaller than the fifth year, but he knew that in the event that he was spotted wandering around the forest, that most centaurs couldn't really tell the difference between humans. It was a chance, but as long as his face was obscured he should be fine even if seen.

 

It was a long walk, but fortunately his forays into the forest with Warthog had given him enough knowledge to get to his destination without getting lost. He stopped every now and again, collecting a few plants and other bits and pieces that he could add to his 'gift' for Snape.

 

Noticing a few webs beginning to adorn the trees above his head, he concentrated and tugged firmly on his bond with Warthog, sighing quietly in relief when she slid out of the shadows next to him a bare minute later. While he was confident in his ability to take on a few _small_ Acrumantula, he wasn't stupid enough to progress any further without a quick exit strategy. No matter how confident he was in his abilities, they were still very dangerous creatures, and he still had things to do tonight that would be very difficult to perform if his limbs had been ripped off by a spider that didn't know when to stop growing.

 

Cautiously, they ventured forward, senses on high alert. When they could hear the soft clicking of excited chelicerae, they braced themselves, taking on a defensive stance. Harry pulled out the Hufflepuffs wand, dropping his blood bonded wand into his other hand. He could feel it practically vibrating with anticipation, and he smiled as he activated the armour gem on his chest. Beside him, Warthog did the same, her already heavily muscled frame taking on almost massive proportions. She was completely covered in black wispy smoke, only her blue eyes shining through with an almost unearthly glow. Her outline was obscured to such a degree that it wasn’t a huge stretch of the imagination to see her as some sort of manifested Hellbeast.

 

His own outline was similarly concealed, and he could see lambent crackles of toxic green flickering through his own smoke.

 

_"Your eyes are glowing a weird green, and you seem to have large horns,"_ Warthog observed. _"You look ridiculous."_

 

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, focusing instead on the clicking he could hear coming closer.

 

The first Acrumantula to reach them was barely the size of a Rottweiler, and Harry kicked it away before it could get too close. It squealed as one of its legs broke under his foot, another breaking as it crunched heavily against a tree. Some of the other spiders grabbed it, dragging it away as it shrieked and thrashed, unable to defend itself against its cannibalistic brethren.

 

Harry tossed out a few overpowered stunners, taking out a handful of the smaller ones that tried to crowd around him. He loathed using the Hufflepuffs wand, it didn't suit him at all and fought him every step of the way, but he needed it to have evidence of use before he left it here for the search party to find. Tossing it aside under a bush, he flicked his wrist and caught one of Shot's grenades, hitting the button and tossing it into the growing hoard. He remembered to throw up a wide area silencing spell at the last second, laughing lightly when the resulting boom launched flailing spiders through the air like eight legged confetti, only for their maimed flesh to be whisked away by opportunistic nest mates in better health.

 

Using his own wand, he began to get serious. The smaller ones dying screams had worked to draw the larger and more experienced beasts, and he could finally have a little fun.

 

It was one of the benefits to using Acromantula for this task, he mused contentedly. He could get in a decent fight, and there'd be no evidence left of it when someone eventually stumbled upon the scene.

 

Flinging around exploding curses and cutting hexes with gleeful abandon, Harry couldn't help but laugh in delight. The screams and squeals of his arachnid victims was a heady rush, and he felt more alive than he'd been since he'd started at this Merlin forsaken school. It was amazing what a decent sleep and a little bloodshed could do to improve a boy's mood. He contemplated drawing his knife and getting up close and personal with the creatures, but common sense stayed his hand. Having a little fun was one thing, but it wouldn't do to get too enthusiastic before the job was finished.

 

_"You're having fun,"_ Warthog observed lightly as she dispatched another spider with a heavy swipe of her paw.

 

"Don't pretend you're not," Harry chuckled.

 

The larger ones had arrived now in sufficient numbers that the odds were well and truly evened, and Harry spotted one about the size of a Quarter Horse that he thought would do nicely for his present. "I want that one!" He pointed, starting to fight his way toward his quarry, his familiar eagerly tearing through spiders at his side.

 

_"I thought you said 'small'!"_ Warthog snarked, eyeing their target.

 

Shrugging, Harry bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty approximation of a smile.

 

"It could be bigger, but we're probably about to run out of time."

 

Harry was relieved that Shot's armour held up against the Acrumantula as well as it did against spells and physical combat, given that he really didn't want to have to deal with being bitten by the things. While the venom _probably_ wouldn't kill him thanks to Snake's regular venom doses, it would still make him very sick, and probably hurt like a bitch in the process.

 

_"Hagrid's coming,"_ Warthog informed him, her ears flicking under the cover of her armour. _"If you're going to get your prize, you'll need to get it now; the oaf sounds like he knows something's going on."_

 

"Right," Harry said, his wand dancing as it flicked around, spells flying as he cleared a path to his quarry. After several moments, he managed to get close enough to start his 'gift acquisition'.

 

"Get ready," he warned her, then plunged a hand into his pocket and pulled out the corpse. Tossing it on the ground at his feet, he cancelled the shrinking charm, then spun lithely and hit his chosen Acrumantula with a rather nifty but obscure euthanasia spell Sergei had taught him. It was completely legal, and was used to put down animals for meat or potions. It had the added benefit of leaving no magical residue that could interfere with the harvested parts.

 

Grabbing the leg of the crumpled arachnid before it could be claimed by its siblings, he thrust a hand into the smoke surrounding Warthog and grabbed her collar, feeling a strange pull from both his core and body as she Slid into the shadows, dragging Harry and his bounty with her mere seconds before Hagrid blundered onto the carnage.

 

There was a brief feeling of _coldslimywrong_ and then he was pulled free of the shadows, shuddering and gasping as he collapsed to his knees.

 

"Oh, you were right about that being unpleasant," he moaned, fighting the urge to spill his stomach contents on the floor. He deactivated his armour, the smoke sucking back into the gem on his chest in seconds. Warthog staggered as she did the same, sinking wearily to the floor.

 

_"Next time we decide to have some fun in the forest, I vote for bringing back a smaller trophy,"_ she moaned, panting.

 

Harry chuckled breathlessly, slumping against her side as he caught his breath.

 

"We both know that won't happen. Are you alright?"

 

Warthog sent feelings of warmth and gratefulness through the bond, turning to her head to lick his hair a couple of times with a purr.

 

_"I'm fine; not even a scratch; I'm just exhausted. Did you ditch the body?"_

 

"Yeah, I left it behind," Harry said vaguely, not taking chances with nosy portraits or ghosts stumbling onto them. Hauling himself wearily to his feet, he shuffled to the door of the small room Warthog had brought them to. "Catch your breath, then once we hand this over to Snape, go get some sleep; you've well and truly earned it."

 

Warthog chuffed in agreement, dropping her head onto her paws as she guarded the Acrumantula until Snape arrived to take it off their hands.

 

Harry walked slowly down the corridor, his body aching. With how busy he'd been since starting Hogwarts, he simply hadn't had the time to devote to his usual physical training regime, and he was feeling the difference now. Still, now that he had his ring, he could finally get back into reasonable shape and stop slacking off, he thought cheerfully.

 

Reaching the door to Snape's rooms, he knocked firmly. Technically he wasn't supposed to know where they were, but with Warthog sniffing around for him, he wasn't going to remain ignorant for long.

 

The door flew open to reveal a sleep mussed Potions Professor, and Harry peered up at the dour man innocently.

 

"How did you find my rooms?" The man blinked in confusion, still more asleep than he'd like to admit.

 

"Are you really surprised?" Harry smiled cheekily. "I rather thought you'd be more interested in why I'm using that knowledge at," he paused to glance at his watch, "half past three in the morning on Boxing Day."

 

Snape blinked again, then dragged a hand over his face.

 

"Alright, let's go with that question then. Why are you here at this Merlin forsaken time of the morning?"

 

"Because I have a present for you!" Harry beamed.

 

"A present," Snape repeated flatly. "And you decided to wait until _now_ to give it to me? Why didn't you just give it to the elves to deliver with the rest of the presents Christmas Morning?"

 

Harry blinked, looking faintly bewildered.

 

"Well, aside from having only just gotten my hands on it, I didn't think you'd appreciate waking up to an Acromantula the size of a horse on the end of your bed."

 

Honestly, the look on Snape's face made the whole ordeal totally worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning at breakfast, their meal was interrupted by gaggle of sombre Professors.

 

"I'm very sorry to disturb your meal, but we have some sad news. It appears that Mr Finkley entered the Forbidden Forest last night for reasons unknown. It is my great sorrow that I must inform you that he did not make it out alive. Hagrid arrived on the scene, but was unable to rescue him in time." Dumbledore paused, the twinkle absent from his blue eyes. "His parents have been informed, and the other students will be informed when they return in the New Year. If anyone has any information on why Mr Finkley was in the Forest last night, please come and see me."

 

The Twins glanced at Harry for the briefest of seconds. Sipping his coffee, the younger boy looked back, raising an eyebrow curiously before returning to his breakfast. Remembering that they'd been instructed to only offer information if asked, they returned to their meals too, whispering conspiratorially together as was their habit. The fact that this allowed them to avoid the pale blue gaze of a certain Headmaster was merely a bonus.

 

"He was probably collecting ingredients," a sixth year Ravenclaw girl offered, barely lifting her eyes from her book as she ate methodically.

 

"Ingredients, Ms Romany?" The Headmaster enquired gently. "Ingredients for what?"

 

"Potions, Sir," Romany looked up, blinking owlishly at finding herself the sole focus of every gaze at the table. "He, um, collected potions ingredients and sold them to the other students. His parents are in that business, you know? They taught him how. Lots of students get their supplies from him; he's cheaper and fresher than the Apothecaries in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, and his stock is always the best quality. If he was in the Forest, that'd be why."

 

Harry and the Twins felt like it was Christmas all over again; with Santa having delivered the most tremendously improbable but massively useful gift. This Romany girl was practically doing their job for them!

 

"I see," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Thank you Ms Romany, that was very helpful."

 

Romany nodded, returning to her book and breakfast.

 

Harry was amused to note that for someone not in the business, she took the death of a schoolmate with surprising calm. Still, he wouldn't try to recruit her. His research on her had shown her to be extremely intelligent, but completely book bound. If it wasn't in text, she didn't believe it possible. Rather like Hermione might have been without his intervention, he mused. Either way, there was no room in his organisation for someone so narrow minded, they'd only be a liability. Not to mention, she had just proven herself far too eager to offer up information.

 

Quickly finishing his meal, Harry swallowed his last mouthful of coffee, and stood, Draco by his side. Warthog was still asleep on his bed after their late night adventure, and Harry made a mental note to ask an elf to bring her some food.

 

Professor Snape too, it seemed, had finished his meal, and was delicately wiping his mouth with a napkin.

 

A quick glance between them and Harry set off toward the dungeons. The rest of his team would be along shortly.

 

The duo stopped short when the Bloody Baron appeared in front of them, drifting through a wall to intercept their progress.

 

"Nicely handled," he intoned, staring down at the eleven year old who had caught his interest. "I think you might be needing this. Come with me."

 

Harry and Draco glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed the spectre curiously.

 

The Baron led them through a series of winding hallways, and into a secret passageway that branched off a hallway a little way past the Slytherin Common Room. It exited into a completely disused section of the dungeons, filled with enough dust and debris to have Harry wrinkling his nose in disgust and lifting the hem of his robes to ensure they didn't become coated in filth. He absently wondered why the House Elves hadn't cleaned here, it seemed out of character.

 

The Baron finally stopped in front of a painting depicting a pretty young blonde girl laying curled up in what appeared to be a large plot of Nightshade.

 

"Wake up, Deidre," the ghost said gently. "I've brought you a new friend."

 

The girl stirred, and slowly sat up.

 

"Roman?" She asked sleepily. "Is that you?"

 

"Yes, Little One. Did you sleep well?"

 

Harry and Draco looked at each other as the ghost and portrait exchanged pleasantries, completely baffled. They'd never seen nor heard of the Baron being so gentle with anyone; to be honest, it was extremely unsettling. Not to mention that they'd never considered he might have any name beyond 'The Bloody Baron'.

 

"Deidre, this is Harry Potter," the Baron regained their attention. "I believe he is worthy of the secret you guard; will you let him in?"

 

Deidre looked at the two boys, and tilted her head curiously.

 

"Which one of you is Harry?" She asked, pulling a lock of hair over her shoulder and winding it slowly through her fingers.

 

"That would be me, Miss Deidre," Harry stepped forward, dipping his head slightly in an approximation of a bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

 

The portrait giggled lightly.

 

"Just Deidre is fine, as long as I can call you Harry," she proposed.

 

"Certainly, Deidre," Harry charmed, bringing out Smile Number 18.

 

The Baron huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

 

"Stop flirting with her, boy. You're too young and she's too old. Besides, it's what she guards that I wanted to show you."

 

Harry glared icily at the ghost, his magic dropping the surrounding temperature so drastically that the faint dripping in a nearby corner suddenly changed to the sound of ice chips hitting the floor. Their breath misted before them, puffing into the frigid air even as a slight breeze stirred around the dark haired child.

 

"Don't. Call. Me. Boy," he demanded.

 

The Baron eyed him warily, becoming aware for the first time that this boy might actually be powerful enough to damage or expel him completely if he chose. Few wizards or witches had the raw power to directly affect a ghost, most needing a complex set of runes and rituals to amplify their spell.

 

"I apologise," he stated stiffly.

 

Harry eyed him for another moment or two, then drew his magic back, the corridor returning to its previous temperature.

 

He hated when people called him boy. It was such a common term, but every time it was directed at him all he could hear was Vernon Durley roaring it angrily, and he kept bracing, expecting to feel the heavy thud of meaty fists on his young flesh. He knew that he should probably get some sort of therapy for the continued flashbacks, but in all honesty the thought of opening up to anyone enough to truly deal with the issue was more than he could tolerate. He'd spent years building up a thick wall around himself, and he wasn't sure he was capable of the level of trust that would be required for therapy to work. Not even his Hounds knew he still suffered flashbacks and nightmares about his time with the Dursleys.

 

"Shall we continue?" He asked coldly.

 

Nodding, the Baron turned back to a wide eyed Deidre.

 

"Would you let us in, dear girl?"

 

"Of course, Roman," she dimpled, and allowed the portrait to swing open, revealing a door made of some sort of dark coloured wood.

 

"Welcome to my private study," The Baron smiled wanly.

 

Harry's eyes widened despite his best efforts, and he gently reached forward to open the door. He could feel the aggressive snap and zing of powerful wards sliding across his skin as he touched the wood, and drew a sharp breath.

 

Instantly, Draco had his wand out defensively.

 

"Harry?"

 

Harry winced as the magic seemed to 'taste' him, then sagged in relief as it found whatever it was it was looking for and settled into a welcoming hum.

 

"I'm alright, I think. What was that?" He eyed the Baron.

 

"A ward I developed," the Baron said proudly. "It will protect a space against all who do not have permission to be there. It can only be passed to a new holder with the permission and approval of the previous, as well as the agreement of its Guardian, which in this case is Deidre."

 

"Clever," Harry admitted. "I assume the Guardian is to prevent the Holder from handing over the ward control under duress or magical influence?"

 

"That's right," the Baron smirked. "I knew I chose right in you."

 

"Out of curiosity," Draco interjected, "what would have happened to Harry if he hadn't had the approval of you and Deidre?"

 

"He'd have died," the Baron shrugged nonchalantly, "and his magic would have been drained to strengthen the ward."

 

Harry and Draco stared at the ghost flatly.

 

"What?" The ghost looked back at them. "I couldn't have just anyone stumbling onto my work, and if they weren't really worthy I certainly didn't want them knowing the location; they might have figured out a way to pick the ward apart given enough time!"

 

Harry shook his head, and put the matter out of his mind. Pushing open the door he stared around the revealed room, carefully keeping his childish delight contained behind his habitual blank expression.

 

The Baron huffed, the boys underwhelming reaction clearly a disappointment.

 

"Well, go on in! Merlin, it's not like anyone just handed you the keys to a vault full of secrets and materials collected by one of the greatest spell crafters of his age or anything!" His expression was bitter, and he folded his arms crossly.

 

"You're acting very strangely," Draco stared at the ghost, brows furrowed. "Completely out of character, in fact."

 

Sighing, the spectre dropped his arms, shoulders drooping slightly.

 

"Well, I rather got stuck in my own legend, you know. Being 'The Bloody Baron'. When I first came back as a ghost, it was quite traumatic, and I just assumed ghosts were supposed to be brooding and ominous, and frighten the little children. It wasn't until much later that I realised that I could be however I bloody well wanted, but by then I had a reputation to maintain. I was the House Ghost for Slytherin, and they all seemed to look to me to be some sort of example and enforcer, and so I just…" He trailed off, looking lost.

 

"Rolled with it?" Harry offered absently.

 

"Yes! Just so," the Baron smiled wistfully. "But now I've finally found someone worthy of my legacy, and he brought along a lackey, which is honestly just good planning," he nodded approvingly, "and so I now have two people I can finally be myself with! Well, aside from Deidre of course, but the poor dear is only active when the rooms are being used. She couldn't really stay awake after I died to keep me company."

 

"So now that the wards have shifted to a living person again, she'll be awake and you can talk to her more?" Draco asked. Seeing the Baron nod happily, he smiled sarcastically. "Good, then go bother her for a while and leave us alone."

 

"Draco, don't be an ass," Harry sighed. "Just because he didn't pick you to be the next ward holder, and called you a lackey, is no reason to be rude. I mean let's face it, the man is _dead_ , his whole life is already gone to shit; no need to make it worse."

 

Draco snorted in amusement, but mumbled an apology.

 

The Baron sniffed, but accepted, though not without muttering a few sly comments about 'insolent albino's the size of a rodent' that earned him a steely eyed glare from the blond child.

 

"Draco, go and get Snape and the Twins please."

 

Harry turned back to the room, confident that his order would be carried out without question, and cast a quick cleaning spell. The room may have been preserved untouched for the last nine hundred odd years, but that also meant that there was roughly nine hundred years worth of dust accumulated on every surface imaginable.

 

Applying more power to the spell, Harry watched as the dirt was whisked away and vanished, leaving the room bereft of grime, but still messy. He glanced around in distaste. Private study or not, there was no excuse for being so lazy. How did the Baron manage to _think_ in such a mess, let alone find anything when he needed it?

 

"So, if I understand correctly, this is my study now?"

 

"Correct. And everything in it also."

 

"Excellent," Harry murmured. "This will solve quite a few issues. I'm going to clear the desk for the moment, but when I have some time later I'll go through everything properly. I may have questions."

 

"I will make myself available," the Baron bowed his head slightly then drifted out of the room, leaving Harry behind in the hurricane of parchment.

 

Glancing at the large piece spread open on the desk, Harry thought it looked like some sort of half finished ward schematic, and made a mental note to send it to Shot and the Hounds to go over; they'd give him a summary later if it was anything he could use.

 

A wave of his wand and things were levitated into a corner, leaving the desk bare. He didn't want to shrink anything, since he didn't know if there were devices or the like buried amongst the parchment that might not react well to it.

 

Settling himself at his desk, he took out the latest packet of letters from his kids and started reading, waiting for his people to arrive. The Ghosts reported that they were putting themselves through intensive training before beginning Hogwarts the next school year, cramming as much information on every topic they could. Apparently Marcel and Trent had bonded over an interest in medicine, and Trent had hinted that he might like to apprentice under the Healer once he was old enough to handle the task. Harry smiled at that, pleased. Marcel might bitch about being saddled with children, but it was clear that he'd made the effort to engage with his charges.

 

Tink had sent a letter on pink paper, and Harry could smell a faint whiff of perfume coming from it. It was a lightly floral scent, and suited the bubbly girl perfectly. Her letter was as he expected, gushing about her excitement for Hogwarts and how much she missed him, a few amusing anecdotes about the other Ghosts, and requests for more books on assorted obscure topics that had caught her interest. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the fairy like girl would end up in Ravenclaw, which would be something of a shock for the relatively quiet and reserved House. Withdrawing a blank piece of parchment, he jotted down a note to approve an expansion of the Ghosts library. While it wasn't currently lacking, he would never deny a request for something so useful.

 

Sarah Hanovan's letter was a surprise. Her correspondence was unusually long for the reserved girl, and Harry's eyebrows climbed as he progressed down the page. It seemed that the young girl had developed something of a crush on Trent, and after plucking up the courage to make her feelings known, found herself subjected to his ridicule.

 

Shifting uncomfortably, Harry delicately placed the letter in the centre of the table, eying it as if he thought it might attack him at any moment. This was _not_ his area of expertise.

 

His horrified contemplation was interrupted by a very welcome knock on the door. Dierdre appeared in an empty oil painted landscape on the wall in front of his desk, smiling winsomely.

 

"The blonde boy has returned, and he's brought some friends," she beamed.

 

"Let them in," Harry smiled back at her.

 

Moments later the door opened to admit Draco, Snape, and the Twins as requested. Blaise trailing in behind them was an unexpected boon as Harry had a moment of clarity at the sight of the boy.

 

"Blaise," he said loudly, causing the Italian boy to jump slightly at the volume. "Have you ever been in love?"

 

"Er, no?" Blaise responded, completely baffled and sharing an unsettled look with the rest of the group.

 

"You have now. Deal with this, draft me a reply, bring it back." Harry brandished Sarah's letter at him, then paused, adding, "and no poison, she's too young to marry him, it would be pointless."

 

Blaise gingerly took the paper, and upon skimming the letter, he cringed. Good thing his mother had started his training early, or he'd be in all sorts of trouble with this task.

 

"Why me?" He asked petulantly.

 

"Your mother is a serial widow, is she not?"

 

"Well, yes," Blaise admitted cagily.

 

"Then you're uniquely qualified to deal with this situation. If anyone knows how to manipulate the lovesick, it's a Zabini."

 

Sighing, Blaise spun on his heel, exiting the room before his new boss could delegate any more inexplicable awkwardness at him.

 

"Everything ok, Harry?" Draco asked, his expression caught somewhere between genuine concern, and smug glee at the other boy's discomfort.

 

"Girl trouble," he muttered.

 

The Twins opened their mouths, expressions mischievous, but Harry held up one finger warningly.

 

"Don't," he stated. "Just, don't."

 

Snape cleared his throat, obviously eager to get down to business.

 

Harry straightened, taking on a more businesslike mien.

 

"Close the door, if you please," he requested.

 

Snape did as asked, then with a nod of approval from Harry, conjured four chairs in front of the desk.

 

Harry meanwhile flicked his wand, setting up additional silencing and privacy spells. Once the room was secured to his satisfaction, he placed his wand on the desk, and leaned back, hands steepled in front of him.

 

"Right then, who wants to go first?" He smirked.

 

The Twins jerked, glancing at each other then raising their hands.

 

"Dibs," they called.

 

Snape and Draco rolled their eyes but didn't argue.

 

"We want to swear loyalty to you. Will you accept?" They spoke together.

 

Harry pursed his lips, then made a rather uncharacteristically impulsive decision.

 

"Before you swear anything, I want you to understand exactly who and what you're committing to. If after you know, you find it's something that you cannot be party to, Professor Snape will obliviate you and we will proceed as though your offer had never been made," the Twins nodded their agreement and Harry continued. "Draco already has some idea of what I'm speaking of, but I believe that more detailed and accurate information is in order, going forward. Professor Snape, would you care to share what I'm sure you've managed to deduce by now?"

 

Snape raised an eyebrow, black eyes locked onto Harry's green.

 

"Mister Potter here, is not an associate of the notorious Crime Lord known as Vahan, as he has led us to believe." He paused dramatically. "He is, in fact, the Crime Lord himself."

 

Harry clapped his gleefully, beaming at the older man.

 

"Oh bravo," he called. "Very dramatic! I especially liked the atmospheric pause, really gave the big reveal an extra kick."

 

Snape folded his arms over his chest, radiating a sense of smug, theatrical self-satisfaction.

 

"I knew it!" Draco jumped to his feet in excitement.

 

"You did not, now sit down," Harry ordered.

 

Draco sat with a pout, sulking as Snape and the Twins snorted in amusement.

 

Turning back to the red haired devils, Harry raised an eyebrow.

 

"So now you know. Considering my reputation, which to be honest, is only the tip of a very large iceberg, do you still wish to offer your vow?"

 

"That's bloody-"

 

"Brilliant!" The Twins breathed in awe.

 

"We want in!"

 

"Alright," Harry smiled, standing and moving around the desk so that the twins could grip his hands as they knelt at his feet. "Swear to Vahan as well as myself; I'm not fond of leaving loopholes."

 

Taking the proper position, the Twins gripped their Lord's offered hands.

 

"We vow this day and every day henceforth, a solemn oath of loyalty and devotion to Harry James Potter, and the office of Vahan should that title pass upon his death to another. We dedicate ourselves, mind, body, magic, and soul, to his service, forsaking all others at his command. May this oath bind us until such time as we are formally released from our vow, or give up our lives in his service. Obedience unto death; so mote it be."

 

"Your oath is accepted, so mote it be," Harry intoned formally, feeling the bonds snap into place against his core.

 

The Twins climbed shakily back into their chairs, but before Harry could return to his seat, Draco had dropped to his knees and reached pleadingly for Harry's hand.

 

"Me too," Draco demanded.

 

Harry raised an eyebrow, sceptical.

 

"This isn't a competition, Draco," he scolded gently.

 

"I know that," the blond huffed. "I've been thinking about this since you rescued me from that guy in the woods when we were kids, but it never seemed the right time until now."

 

"You of all people know what you're getting into with this, so I will accept only if you're completely sure."

 

Draco nodded firmly.

 

"I am. You already hold my loyalty, trust, and respect. As my forebears served their Lords like slaves, let me now serve you of my own free will; so mote it be."

 

"Your vow is accepted, and I formally extend to you the protection of both House Potter and Vahan for as long as you serve; so mote it be."

 

Draco sagged, then settled back on his chair with a content expression.

 

Harry cast a sideways glance at Snape, who sighed.

 

"I swore an Unbreakable vow to protect you the day after you were orphaned, for reason you already know. Offering my loyalty as well seems like a logical next step. Will you accept?"

 

Snape's hooded eyes practically glowed with his intensity, and Harry's lips stretched in a satisfied smile in return.

 

"I do," he stated, lightly touching Snape's extended hand.

 


	16. A VERY IMPORTANT NOTE

**Sorry folks, not an update, just a very important note.**

**I've received a very disturbing email, and feel the need to clarify something very VERY important.**

**IN NO WAY DO I SUPPORT, ENDORSE, OR APPROVE OF CHILD ABUSE, NEGLECT, OR PROSTITUTION. It is a despicable practice that destroys lives, and in no way is my work intended to glamorise or promote it.**

**My work was intended to highlight how such events impact a person and affects their life and future relationships. I attempt to handle this sensitively, but I am only human, and an amateur writer, so if I’ve gotten it horribly wrong, I apologise.**

**I try to mark all my stories with appropriate tags to prevent causing issues to people who don't want to read about such things. The contents of my stories are SUPPOSED to be challenging and disturbing, and outright sickening. They are supposed to make you think, and feel. But above all, THEY ARE FICTION. They are NOT IN ANY WAY indicative of my own preferences or actions! Please bear that in mind if you choose to read my work.**

 

**I would think all of this would be obvious, but apparently it isn’t. So I apologise for getting you excited over a non-existent update. Just rest assured that despite this persons demands, I will not willingly be removing my stories. If the admin gods chose to take them down, so be it, but it will never be removed by my doing.**

On a (hopefully) more pleasant note, the next chapter is partway written. I know it’s been overdue for an update, but I had surgery over Christmas and New Years, and I’m still healing, so work progress is slow. Don’t panic, I’m fine, and work will continue! I won’t leave you hanging any longer than necessary!

 

Thanks for everyone’s reviews so far, by the way; it really means a lot to me to see such a dark story being reviewed so positively. I use my fanfiction to not only practice my writing (since I’m an aspiring novelist), but also test out themes that may show up in my original works later. Admitted, the Vahan Saga is way darker than anything that would fit in my original stuff, but I believe a writers job is to peel back the pretty façade and poke the ugliness underneath. It’s just sad that such things exist to poke in the first place.

 

So in conclusion, thank you all again for reading my work. I look forward to receiving your reviews and feedback in the future. You guys are why I do this.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Sorry for the delay folks. As I mentioned vaguely in the note I posted, I got sick, then a little better, then ended up in hospital over Christmas/New Years. Apparently, my gallbladder was trying to kill me (literally. It was uncomfortably close to major problems from what the doctors say), and it's a very good thing I went to the hospital when I did, or else my brother Drunk_Harry might have had to finish this series for me. He gave me a horrified look when I mentioned it and shoved a lettuce leaf at me, so I think that counts as a refusal bundled with well wishes? Anyway, I'm fine now, despite a few post-surgery complications, and feeling better than I have in literally years. Take care of your health, people. If you don't, I'll regale you with the gory details of what was going on with my gallbladder and what happened during the surgery. *firm nod* (If you like medical stuff, it's actually kind of cool! When you can make experienced surgeons say "that was the WORST gallbladder I've seen. How did you function as long as you did?! You should have been in agony, but you only rated it a 4?!!", you know you've achieved something noteworthy!) Also, I'm moving to a new house with only one week's prep time, so YAY! *cries*
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to get back on a more regular publishing schedule.

* * *

 

"It's supposed to be a semi colon, not a colon."

 

"I'll shove this up your entire colon if you don't bugger off!"

 

Harry paused, blinking, as he listened to Hermione and Draco arguing. Behind him, Blaise and the Twins muffled their laughter in their hands, though Dean didn't bother, chuckling as he walking boldly up to the table.

 

"Careful, you'll have Pince breathing fire at you if you don't keep it down," he commented, dropping his bag on the table and earning himself a dirty look from Draco as the blond scrambled to grab the piles of parchment out from under the Gryffindor's belongings.

 

"Well, we wouldn't have a problem if she would just focus on her own work and leave me to mine!"

 

"Oh please, I'm merely trying to be efficient. I can tolerate your haphazard approach to filing, but I absolutely refuse to submit subpar quality because you're too lazy to check your work!"

 

"Listen, this project is not some school assignment. We have time to go over it and make it grammatically perfect later. Right now we're just compiling raw data!"

 

"You're impossible! It doesn’t matter if it's raw data or not, if you compile it properly now, it'll save time later! You're just making more work for us both!"

 

"Listen, we don't even know everything that will need to go into these booklets, half of this data is likely irrelevant! I'm not going to waste time on stuff that's probably not going to be used anyway!"

 

Hermione puffed up, even her bushy mane of hair bristling around her head like a static cloud.

 

Harry decided to step in before the two began brawling over the table. Though if he was being honest, a part of him kind of wanted to let them, so he could run a betting pool.

 

"Alright you two, settle down. Hermione, focus on your own work. Draco, stop goading her."

 

Settling himself at the head of the table, he pulled his homework planner from his bag, checking what needed to be done. He was pleased to see that aside from putting the finishing touches on a Herbology assignment, he only needed to do a little revision, and then he could leave his group and go pay a quick visit to Severus. The older man was coming along nicely, as were the twins. Cedric still needed some work, but he was getting there.

 

He shook his head, setting up his Herbology assignment and paraphernalia.

 

"Draco, Hermione," he mused, drawing their attention. "Have either of you asked the older Ravenclaws for their notes? It might also be worth asking the teachers for recommended reading lists for the entire years' work. It should give you a better framework for your research."

 

He couldn't be bothered fighting down the grin at the despairing groans from the reluctant research partners.

 

"Hey Harry," Dean asked quietly once everyone had settled to their own work, "Ron and Seamus have been plotting in the dorms again. They've been following you around when they can get away with it, and they said that they're sure you had something to do with Finkley's disappearance."

 

Harry noticed his Twins stiffening slightly, obviously listening in.

 

"Do they have any proof?" He asked calmly, correcting a line of his assignment.

 

Dean shook his head, chewing his lip. "Not that I've heard about."

 

"Then it doesn't matter what they think they know. If they can't prove it, and didn't see anything personally, then they can speculate all they wish."

 

Dean blinked in surprise, and he noticed the others at the table had stopped their work, focusing on their leader intently.

 

"What about your reputation?" Hermione asked worriedly. "If they start spouting this rubbish, there are some people who will believe them, and it could cause all sorts of problems for you. I mean, _we_ know you'd never do anything like that, but if enough people started believing it, it could affect your business plans. I mean, these booklets Draco and I are working on, it could all be wasted if your reputation takes a hit."

 

Harry smiled at her gratefully, pleased with the show of support.

 

"Not to worry," he reassured her. "My reputation can handle a few sceptics and gossipmongers. And if they cross the point of defamation or slander, my father's lawyer will handle it."

 

The group glanced almost as one to the Twins, worried for their reaction, but were surprised to see the two redheads nodding along in agreement.

 

"We'll try to warn them," Fred began.

 

"But they probably won't listen," George ended.

 

"If it gets too bad, we'll tell Mum," they ended together.

 

Cedric chose that moment to approach the table, flustered.

 

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered quietly as he pulled up a chair next to Neville. "I heard some Ravenclaws talking rubbish about Harry and had to set them straight. Apparently they overheard the youngest Weasley and his friend talking about how you must have done something to Finkley." He shook his head, scowling slightly. "You'd think that they'd know better than to believe gossip, but what can you do."

 

"Thanks," Harry said, letting his eyes go a little glassy. "It means a lot that you'd be willing to defend me like that."

 

Cedric looked at the younger boy, and his lips twitched into a crooked grin. He was well aware the little shit was playing the group, he was Slytherin after all, but he thought there was a degee of genuine feeling buried beneath all the manipulation. Nodding his head in acknowledgement, he turned to Neville, engaging him in a conversation about his current Herbology assignment.

 

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

 

"Hmm?" The boy hummed, mostly focused on his assignment.

 

"Are you ok?" She bit her lip, eyeing him in concern. "Did you want to go write to your father?"

 

Pausing, Harry considered her thoughtfully before shaking his head.

 

"No, thanks. I'll write to him later, when I've had some time to think about it."

 

He watched as a couple of Hufflepuffs he didn't know well scuttled past their table, eyeing him nervously. He sighed.

 

_'I do hope the twins aren't overly attached to ickle Ronnikins,'_ he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

"So what do you plan to do?" Alex asked.

 

Harry had called together his entire group, introducing Severus and Draco, as their newest members. He'd considered bringing the Twins, but decided that the topic was likely to put too much pressure on them just yet. His Twins were still a bit tender on the subject of their recently deceased classmate.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

"Honestly, I'm open to suggestions. I don't see it's much of a problem right now, but if it snowballs to the point where people start writing to their parents, then parents will start writing to Dumbledore or the Board of Governors, or worse, the papers. There's no proof of my involvement of course, but they don't need proof to slander me and damage my reputation."

 

The group fell silent, thinking through their options.

 

"What about a PR campaign?" Draco suggested tentatively.

 

Harry looked at him, waiting for him to explain.

 

"My father runs them periodically. He says that it makes greasing the wheels in business a lot easier if people are thinking about his charity donations rather than his time under the Imperious."

 

"Its not a bad idea," Marcel offered. "It may seem a little contrived if you ran one now, but the idea of waving something shiny has merit."

 

"You're thinking the biography?" Shot asked, sipping on a nightmarish sugar concoction, even as she peered over the rim at the Healer.

 

"Biography?" Harry asked, frowning slightly. "What biography?"

 

Shot waved a hand, pausing to swallow more of the sludge in her glass.

 

"Something we put together as a contingency if we needed to distract the public at some point. It's basically an edited version of your history. We actually have several versions, depending on what image you want to portray? Personally, I'd go for the poor little abused orphan angle, it'll gain you sympathy, and help flush out people who think they can manipulate you because of it. Best part is, it's completely accurate, without giving away anything overly personal! Well, at least I don't _think_ it does..."

 

"When did you put this together?" Harry asked, amused.

 

"I've been working on it for a while, but honestly, I'll need to sit down with you and get more details of whatever you're comfortable sharing. We've mocked up the bones of it, but let's face it, it's not like most of your history is documented."

 

"True enough," Harry agreed. "Alright, we'll sit down next week and go over it. How long will it take to get it properly hyped and published?"

 

"Truthfully, I only have a vague idea," Shot shrugged. "A proper advertising campaign to drive up interest and presales could take a couple of months normally, but it's _you_ , so… Maybe a month? And the biggest challenge with the publishing is going to be making sure there are enough copies. Though, you can drive up sales even more through orders if you're forced to do a second printing run. It's up to you, depending on how long you want to drive the frenzy."

 

Snape's thin lips twitched slightly, and Harry turned to the Professor.

 

"Something to add, Severus?" He asked.

 

Snape looked at the young boy that sat so confidently at the head of the meeting table.

 

"If you choose to pursue this, you should be prepared for another meeting with Dumbledore. He will do his best to paint it in a negative light, and will almost certainly encourage the Professors to put you back in what he sees as your place, lest your ego get too big."

 

Harry nodded.

 

"Noted. If he pulls me in for a meeting I'll refuse unless you're with me as my Head of House. Is it likely he'll request a meeting with my father?"

 

"It's possible, but not likely," Severus shook his head. "He'll more likely try to convince you that your father is taking advantage of you."

 

"Your father's hardly ever here though," Draco frowned. "I can't imagine he'll be pleased to have his business interrupted to deal with the Headmaster's hissy fit, especially since he'd never do anything that you weren't comfortable with. And didn't Father just help get him instated on the Hogwarts Board of Governors after the Broom Incident getting hushed up? He could stir up trouble for Dumbledore if the Headmaster pushes things too far."

 

Harry smiled, even as the rest of the Hounds chuckled quietly.

 

"That's true enough, but I doubt he'll care about being interrupted. He doesn't care about much of anything, actually."

 

Draco frowned, irritated that he was obviously missing something.

 

Taking pity on the boy, Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled deviously.

 

"My father doesn't exist."

 

The blond raised an eyebrow, his confusion only growing.

 

"But, I've met him? Father does business with him regularly?"

 

Shaking his head, Harry explained.

 

"I created the alias of John Smith to conduct legal transactions such as buying property, when I was eight. Seven? Somewhere around there. Anyway, when I was nine I got tired of all the slinking around I was forced to do, so I had 'John Smith' adopt me."

 

Draco boggled, his mouth hanging open unattractively. Even Snape was eyeing Harry with visible surprise.

 

"You what? So, you basically adopted yourself, just for convenience?"

 

Harry nodded, resting his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his fist.

 

"And then what, you hired someone to be 'Smith' at official functions?" Draco looked to be on the edge of hysterics, much to Harry's amusement.

 

"Don't be absurd," Harry murmured, thanking Jinky with the little elf popped in with a range of finger food for the group and a tumbler of Scotch for the dark haired boy. "I needed to be able to sign legally binding documents. No, hiring someone would never do; I had the Goblins make me a golem."

 

Snape choked slightly on his own Scotch, hastily patting his lips dry with a napkin.

 

Draco seemed to have given up on being shocked, and moved straight into resignation.

 

"I should have known," he stated. "Let me guess, when he's not doing business, you stuff him in a cupboard?"

 

"Well, yes, actually," Harry agreed. "But he rarely ends up there; my various businesses and projects don't exactly run themselves, and there's a lot of paperwork and meetings involved."

 

"Speaking of your projects," Marcel interjected, bringing their meeting back on track, "did you read the latest report on your Harringay Warehouses? I was thinking we could use the empty one to…"

 

* * *

 

 

Several days later Harry was sitting in his new office, chatting with the Bloody Baron and Deidre and enjoying a rare moment of quiet. He was rather pleased with his efforts recently. All of his projects and businesses were on track, profit was up, Shot was making decent inroads on her research of the night he was orphaned, and his Ghosts and Nestlings were excelling beyond his expectations. He was sure that something was about to happen, probably something exhausting, but he wasn't going to ruin his afternoon off by borrowing trouble before it arrived.

 

"That Zabini boy is doing well," Deirdre commented. "I've been watching him. He's quite charming when he wants to be."

 

The Bloody Baron nodded.

 

"Given his mother's predilections, that's hardly surprising."

 

Harry hummed in agreement. He'd actually been very pleased with Blaise's work so far. The boy excelled in charming people into giving him all sorts of favours and information, and he was adding to Vahan's network quite effectively. He'd also taken his mission to protect Connor to heart, striking up a close friendship with the younger boy and getting to know him as best as possible. Harry monitored it all of course, which Connor was aware of, but he had no areas of concern at this point. Connor needed someone other than Harry that he could rely on, and since Blaise was to be his protector and aid, it made sense.

 

"What are you going to do about that Weasley boy?" the Baron asked suddenly.

 

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

 

"You'll need to be more specific."

 

Deidre and Baron chuckled slightly.

 

"The youngest one. I've noticed he's been trying to follow you around lately, plus he's been rather vocal in pointing the finger at you over that Finkley boy getting himself killed in the forest. He seems determined to convince anyone who'll listen that it's your fault, somehow."

 

Shrugging, Harry leaned back in his seat and rested his head on his palm.

 

"I've noticed. So far I'm just letting him follow for a while before slipping off, and Severus is already gleefully taking points from him and giving him detentions whenever possible. Finnigan has been trying as well, but he's even worse at it than Weasley. I figure that they'll get bored eventually. If it gets inconvenient then I'll deal with it then. No, it's Nott that's the larger irritation right now. He's good at following people unobserved, and his proximity to me in the dorms makes it easier for him to keep tabs on my coming and going. He's an annoying little twat, honestly."

 

The Baron's lips twitched in amusement, but he didn't bother denying it. Nott _was_ an annoying little twat. Not even the Fat Friar liked him.

 

Harry shrugged, twirling a quill even as he rocked in the chair he'd had Jinky bring in, since the one the Baron had used was a nightmare on the tailbone.

 

"I don't know. Maybe I can dump him in the forest or something somehow. See how long it takes him to get out, if he can."

 

The Baron and Deirdre giggled at that. They may not know if he was serious or not, but it was an amusing picture nonetheless.

 

Closing his eyes and resting his head back on his chair, Harry sighed, relaxing. He really did love this chair.

 

"What do you think about the female Slytherins?" Harry asked, cracking one eye open to look at his ghostly companion. "I haven't really cultivated any of them yet, I've been leaving it to Blaise, but I'm unsure if any of them are worth working with personally."

 

There was a knock on the door before the Baron could answer, and Deirdre ducked out to see who it was.

 

"It's the Weasley Twins, and they've brought the Diggory boy?" She said, returning a moment later.

 

Harry nodded to the Baron, letting him know that he'd catch up with him later, before giving permission for Deirdre to let his guests in.

 

Watching the three older boys shuffling in, he felt a moment of pride at how neatly he'd managed to obtain the red headed devils. They really were amazingly versatile. Cedric had a lot of potential, but Harry wasn't sure exactly where he would end up in Vahan's organisation. Probably recruitment, given his friendly nature and good looks. It might be worth pairing him up with Blaise in the future; have the budding Casanova teach the Hufflepuff how to make the most of his attributes.

 

"What can I do for you?" He asked, dropping his quill on the desk and giving the boys his full attention.

 

George straightened, dropping into a sloppy military rest position, something he'd likely picked up from Jinky at some point.

 

"Cedric here mentioned something we thought you should be aware of." He reported, before turning his gaze to the handsome brunet.

 

Cedric shuffled slightly at being under such intense scrutiny, before visibly drawing on his courage.

 

"Um, there's a couple of things? Firstly, Hagrid's been acting odd. I think he's hiding something in his hut? I know you're friends with him, so I thought you might want to know. You know, in case you didn't already."

 

Harry arched an eyebrow in interest. He'd had no idea, he hadn't been down to see Hagrid for a while.

 

"I didn't know, thank you. I'll check on him and make sure he's not doing something that'll get him into trouble. You said there were a couple of things?"

 

"Oh, um," Cedric rubbed the back of his head nervously. He felt strange reporting to the younger boy, but at the same time it seemed right. Harry was known to be a miracle worker of sorts, and would go to extreme lengths to help the people who came to him; even further for the ones he considered as one of his. Sucking in a deep breath, he braced himself. "It's kind of personal, so I'd appreciate it if it stayed between us?"

 

Harry nodded in agreement, waiting patiently for Cedric to get to the point.

 

"It's, ah, my mother. She's sick, and the Healers at St Mungo's don't think she's going to pull through. My dad, he works hard, but we aren't wealthy or well-connected enough to look for a private healer, or anywhere out of the UK. The twins suggested talking to you. They said that you might know someone who could help?" He looked at Harry, his face betraying his desperate hope.

 

Harry took a moment to think, not removing his gaze from the pleading boy in front of his desk.

 

"I might be able to help, but there's no guarantees. You do understand that, right?"

 

Cedric nodded quickly, tears starting to pool in his eyes.

 

"I can speak to a Healer I know. He works privately, so he should have time to assess her and see if there is anything he can do to help. But I need to know, if the only solution falls into the more frowned up side of the scale, are you willing to go through with the treatment? And will you protect the Healer's identity?"

 

Cedric paused, swallowing heavily. He wasn't stupid, he knew that Harry was more than he seemed, and it was impossible to pull off the sorts of things he did and get access to the kinds of information he had without some more dubious contacts. But was he willing to delve into potentially Dark Magic to save his mother? He knew the answer already, but took the time to mull it over carefully before speaking. This wasn't the type of decision to make when emotional.

 

"Yes," he finally stated firmly, looking into Harry's bright green eyes. Let the dice fall where they would, he'd made his choice. "Though if at all possible I'd like to refrain from any sacrificial magic. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she knew that her life came at the cost of someone else's."

 

Harry smiled slightly, nodding in agreement.

 

"Reasonable."

 

Harry dismissed the twins with a glance and approving smile, then directed Cedric to the chair that had previously been ignored.

 

He picked up his quill, scribbling a small note on a piece of parchment before summoning Jinky and quietly directing him to take it to the Haunt. The black clad elf nodded and disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Harry to turn back to Cedric.

 

"Now, about payment."

 

Cedric winced, paling slightly.

 

"My family isn't wealthy, but maybe we can work out some sort of arrangement?" He offered weakly.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not talking about money. The Healers fees and any costs for medication will be taken care of. No, I'd like to talk to you about your plans for the future."

 


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you for your patience in the ridiculously long wait for this chapter. In the time since I last posted, I've moved house, had massive issues with a flatmate, started Uni full time (doing Professional Writing and Publishing, yay me!), and am still working 3/4 of a full time job, all while raising my kid. I'm… Overwhelmed, to be honest. Work on my original novel has slowed, as has my fanfictions (obviously). But fear not, loyal readers! I will never abandon my work here, because it's fun, and I'm a little afraid that a bunch of you might form a lynch mob if I tried. But mainly the first thing.
> 
> Oh, and to the knobbers who send me messages telling me what a terrible person I am for the things I write about, I'd like to take this moment to inform you that I truly appreciate you taking the time out of your day to message me, but that in order to value your opinion, I'd need to give a shit what you think. Which I don't. But thanks all the same!

 

* * *

 

"A dragon," Harry stated flatly, staring at the slime covered hatchling as it staggered around the tabletop. "As in, a fire breathing winged lizard that grows to several times the size of this hut inside a year."

 

Hagrid ignored the boy, busy cooing at the little beast, even after it hiccupped and set his beard on fire.

 

"Aye, a dragon. And isn't he a beauty! Look at the little tyke! Got the egg from a fella down the pub; won him in a game of poker."

 

"Hagrid," Harry tried again. "Dragons can't control their flame breath until they reach three months old, by which time they're usually the size of a draft horse."

 

"That's right," Hagrid agreed, still barely listening.

 

"You live in a wooden hut," the young crime lord stated, fighting the overwhelming urge to facepalm.

 

Hagrid continued to ignore him, absently patting at his still smouldering beard.

 

Draco and the twins stared in silent awe at the infant menace, their eyes shining.

 

"Our brother, Charlie-"

 

"Works at a Dragon Reserve in Romania," said the twins, glancing at Harry.

 

Harry nodded, understanding their point and giving permission.

 

They nodded back in unison, already planning out the letter they would send.

 

Draco caught on immediately, and though sad he wouldn't get the chance to help care for his namesake, immediately fell into line.

 

"Hagrid," he forced a polite tone, "is the Headmaster aware of your latest pet? I only ask because possession of a Dragon without a permit and appropriate habitat is a Class 5 offence, punishable by a huge fine and time in Azkaban."

 

Hagrid continued avoiding their eyes.

 

Harry sighed and stood up, moving next to the huge man and placing a hand on his arm.

 

"Hagrid, when we first met, you told me you'd always wanted a dragon. I know you know all about them, so tell me, is this an appropriate place for a young dragon to grow? Will it learn what it needs in order to be a proper dragon?"

 

Hagrid's shoulders drooped slightly.

 

"But, what if the other dragons are mean to him? Poor Norbert's so little." He pulled a massive spotted handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his eyes, mopping up the huge fat tears beading on his lashes.

 

"If he grows up away from other dragons then they probably will," commented Draco. "But he's young enough that if you get him to the reserve quickly then they'll be able to foster him. The other dragons will see him as abandoned or orphaned and adopt him. But you were the first thing he saw when he hatched. Even if he gets fostered, he'll always remember you. You'll always be his Mummy."

 

Harry glanced at Draco with wide eyes, and had to fight down a snort at the almost pained control the blond had of his expression. He looked like he was trying to smile politely through a rather intense bout of constipation.

 

"Don't worry, Hagrid," Harry patted his arm. "We'll arrange everything, you just focus on enjoying your time with him. Just make sure you keep up with your other duties. You don't want anyone getting suspicious and finding him before we can get him safe."

 

Hagrid nodded with a watery smile.

 

"Yer a good lad, Harry. Thanks, all of yeh."

 

The boys smiled and took their leave, walking quietly back to the castle before splitting off, the twins hurrying away to send the fastest owl they could borrow to their brother.

 

Harry and Draco made their way to Harry's office, and settled themselves in the leather chairs.

 

"How in Merlin's name did he get hold of a dragon egg?" Draco asked, overwhelmed. "It's not the sort of thing a person carries around in their pocket."

 

"That's the question, isn't it," Harry sighed. He picked up a piece of parchment covered in spidery scrawl, and skimmed it before blinking and reading it again more closely. "I think we might have an answer though," he huffed in amusement.

 

Draco raised an eyebrow.

 

"Snape dropped by while we were out, and left a list of the obstacles our esteemed Headmaster thought sufficient to protect the object that I've already taken."

 

Draco snorted at that.

 

"Seriously?"

 

"Yeah," Harry smirked. "Given the lack of frantic activity, I'd say he hasn't even noticed yet."

 

Draco shook his head, amused.

 

"So what does that have to do with a dragon egg? Pretty sure the Headmaster isn't _quite_ senile enough to think a baby dragon will guard something. They don't start that sort of thing until they're at least fifty years old and ready to start trying to win a mate."

 

Harry handed over the paper, and waited patiently while the other boy read the list.

 

"I don't see how any of this relates to Hagrid getting an egg?"

 

"Draco, he said he won the egg from a random man in a pub, by _winning a game of poker_."

 

"So? Maybe the guy wanted to pass on the egg before he got arrested?"

 

"No," Harry kept careful rein on his patience, not letting any of his exasperation creep into his tone. "There's no way on earth that Hagrid would win a game of poker; but he'll talk your ear off about creatures if you let him."

 

Draco frowned, and looked at the list again.

 

"The Cerberus?"

 

"Exactly," Harry smiled approvingly. "If there's a Cerberus in the castle, you can be certain that it was probably obtained from Hagrid, and if not then he will still be the one responsible for caring for it. If you wanted to get past it, he'd be the one to butter up, especially since he'll tell you anything you want to know if you look interested and sit still long enough."

 

Draco's mouth dropped into a small 'oh' of realisation.

 

"So someone wants the whatever-it-is, doesn't know it's gone, and is fishing for information?"

 

"Probably," Harry nodded. "It also explains the troll on Halloween, given that there's one on the list as well. It probably got out of its containment, or more likely was set loose as a distraction. Which in itself narrows the list of possible suspects quite considerably."

 

"So, do we care about this at all?"

 

"Not really, as long as it doesn't affect me or any of mine," Harry admitted. "Spread the word that we don't care, and to stay out of the way."

 

"Will do. On a different topic, how's Blaise going with Connor? And I've noticed you seem more lively, has your sleeping problem been sorted, or did you just get better drugs?"

 

Harry smiled faintly.

 

"Better than expected. They're getting along well, and Blaise seems to be taking the responsibility seriously. Assuming nothing goes wrong between now and the end of the year, I'll set the two of you up to be mentored and trained by Alex. I'll put Greg and Vince under Sergei; the twins will go under Shot."

 

"What about Hermione?" Draco asked, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "She's still very rule bound, but she's a monster at research."

 

Harry hummed noncommittally.

 

"I'm not sure. Shot would probably be a good option, but Hermione isn't so great at thinking outside of the box. I don't want to waste Shot's time."

 

Draco hummed, thinking quietly.

 

"You could cross train her? Have Shot help her with researching skills, but have Marcel or Bradshaw handle the rest of it?"

 

"I don't know. I'll think about it later, there's no hurry." Harry ran a hand through his hair, tugging the hair tie free, and quickly retied the silky waves back into a tidy ponytail at the base of his neck. "How are the study guides progressing?"

 

"We've compiled most of the raw data," Draco sighed. "We've gathered everything for all seven years, and I've roped in a couple of the more enthusiastic Ravenclaw first years and a couple of Hufflepuff second years to help with collating it all. All going to plan we should have them ready to distribute to our group by the end of next week. Hermione got recommended reading lists from  all the professors that we currently have, and we paid Percy Weasley to get the same from all the other teachers. I thought that when we're ready to start selling the guides, we could offer a second bundle of the recommended books separately. And maybe a self-testing package? That one was actually Hermione's idea," he admitted grudgingly, "though she wanted to include everything as a single package. But we would make more money if they were sold separately, and they'll look more affordable if they're sold in parts."

 

Harry nodded.

 

"I like it. What price were you thinking?"

 

"I thought we could start with two sickles for the basic package containing the guide and list of recommended other texts, one sickle for the quiz package, and the book bundle would depend on how much the books themselves cost. We'd need to contact the publishers and get permission and stock, but we should be able to negotiate some kind of bulk deal. I estimate somewhere between two to eight galleons. And for third years and above we can offer subject specific bundles as well. We would price them a bit lower, obviously, but let's face it, with your name on the packet, it's going to fly off the shelves. It's really just a matter of PR at this stage."

 

Harry smiled, pleased. Draco may not be the best at identifying patterns the way Harry was, but he had an excellent nose for business, no doubt as a result of hands on tutoring from the elder Malfoy since before he was out of nappies.

 

"Alright, sounds good. We could maybe offer a discount if all three packages are bought together? Talk to Alex and Bradshaw, I'll sign off on whatever you agree on. Make sure all the copyright and royalties are sorted though, I don't want _any_ contention later from people claiming to have contributed the material."

 

"Yes, sir," Draco smiled. "So, back to the earlier topic. Do I get to know what the mysterious object was?"

 

"Client confidentiality, I'm afraid," Harry responded blandly.

 

Draco pouted, huffing. He knew better than to push, but he couldn't help but be curious. His life had been so _exciting_ since Harry became a regular part of it.

 

"So what else do we need to go over?" He asked instead.

 

Harry hummed, rifling through a few papers.

 

"Nothing major. You've been giving me regular reports on the network we're building here at Hogwarts, and I'm pleased with your progress. We've been over the study guides," he pursed his lips as he thought. "Hm. How are you going with your sleep? Are you getting enough? I know I'm keeping you busy, but I don't want you becoming addicted to the stimulant I gave you."

 

Draco winced.

 

"Erm, I'm coping, I guess? It's not easy, and I don't use the potion often, but I'm getting a bit tired. I've started using Pepper Up potions most mornings so I don't take too much of your stuff."

 

Harry hummed, displeased. He jotted down a quick note asking Sergei to try to get his hands on more of the sleep rings. Ideally he'd either have Shot reverse engineer them, or gather enough to pass around to all his key people. Inadequate rest stunted performance after all, and he demanded his people be in peak condition. A quiet call to Jinky had the elf pop in to collect the note, and disappear to deliver it immediately.

 

"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss before we head out?"

 

Draco shook his head, standing and straightening his robes.

 

Harry followed, the spells Alex had insisted be woven into the fabric of his suits smoothing out any creases the moment he stood. He nodded a quick goodbye to Dierdre and the Baron as they left the office, the two old friends gossiping together like old women now that Dierdre was awake again. Harry privately thought that the Baron has missed his friend, and despite his habitual scowl, was enjoying filling her in on a few hundred years of castle gossip.

 

The boys made their leisurely way through the halls, their footsteps muffled by the charms that Sergei had demanded they keep on at all times, claiming that you never knew when a loud footfall might endanger your life, or worse, cause you to miss some juicy blackmail material. They chatted quietly as they walked, enjoying the time to relax as much as two children with their training ever allowed themselves to.

 

"Pureblood," Draco murmured at the wall, waiting patiently as the hidden door slid open, and entering before Harry. It was a habit Alex and Sergei had drilled into him (much to his father's displeasure), allowing him to bodily protect the other boy in the event someone got the suicidal idea to attack The-Boy-Who-Lived as he entered the room. So far nobody had been that stupid, but there was always a first time.

 

Warthog lifted her head from where she was monopolizing the warmth of the fire, and lazily watched them approach, the tip of her tail flicking slowly.

 

Harry greeted her with a smile, and removed his robes, leaving him in just a silk shirt and fitted trousers. Handing the robes to Blaise, who merely draped them neatly over the arm of his chair and went back to his book, Harry sank to the floor next to his familiar, digging his nails into her thick fur and scratching behind her ears.

 

Warthog's loud purring filled the room, and Harry's smile widened. The flood of warmth and pleasure the puma sent through the bond was enough to make him feel a little giddy, and he couldn't help but giggle slightly at the feeling.

 

The massive cat cracked open a blue eye, peering up at her human before she heaved herself partially upright, rubbing her face against Harry's and nearly knocking him over as she forced her affection on him, purring and chirping playfully.

 

"Ack! Alright, alright! Stop that, you overgrown housecat!" Harry protested, even as he giggled harder. A large paw swatting his shoulder was the response, and Warthog cheerfully ignored his increasingly breathless pleas to stop.

 

Their fun was interrupted by the nasal tones of Pansy Parkinson, as the girl squealed and rushed over to sit on the couch next to Draco.

 

Harry sighed, all good feeling draining away. Warthog huffed in agreement, and flopped down in front of the fire again, allowing Harry to seat himself with his back against her stomach and use her like a pillow.

 

 _"I really dislike that girl,"_ Warthog commented. _"She always smells too strongly of flowers, it makes me sneeze."_

 

Harry hummed in agreement.

 

_"Plus, she's been hanging around that rabbity one a lot recently. I haven't caught any of their conversations yet, but I will.  With how much both of them dislike you, I'd be very surprised if they didn't team up to try something."_

 

Well now, _that_ was interesting, Harry thought, though hardly surprising. Warthog was right that it would be odd if the two didn't collaborate. Luckily he'd already managed to recruit Tracy Davis, Daphne Greengrass, and Millicent Bulstrode to his side. They had no interest in becoming part of his 'study group', but were more than happy to feed him information whenever they found an interesting titbit he might find use for. In return, he gave them protection from some of the older Slytherin boys who were eyeing them as potential brides, and leverage against their parents if any attempt was made at arranging a marriage for them to someone the girls disapproved of. He personally found the idea of an arranged marriage, and marriage contracts involving underaged children to be an appalling practice, but he was well aware that he wasn't in a position to do anything about it at this stage beyond what he was already doing. One day, though, he'd see about fixing that. After all, Dave would be so disappointed in him if he failed to protect the children simply because the violation was currently legal.

 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked up to see Draco crowded against the arm of the couch while Parkinson cuddled up against his side, looking blissful as she rested her head on his chest. Draco did not seem to be feeling similar euphoria, if his increasingly panicked looks towards Harry were anything to judge by.

 

"You've been working so hard lately, I feel like I never see you," Parkinson cooed, peering up at the captive blond.

 

"Erm, yes," Draco stumbled, trying futilely to shift further away from the overly perfumed limpet. "I've been very busy. Studying. And things."

 

Harry snorted, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. He knew he shouldn't laugh, but he couldn't help it. Draco's expression was hilarious! The rest of the common room agreed, if the number of eyes on the couple were anything to judge by.

 

"Oh Dracie-poo, you're so dedicated! I love that about you!"

 

 _Dracie-poo_ , Harry mouthed, incredulous. His face was going red with the effort to control himself, and by the look of death Draco shot him, his struggles hadn't gone unnoticed.

 

"I hope our children have your work ethic," Parkinson sighed happily, snuggling closer to her captive. "I'm sure they'll be beautiful _and_ smart!"

 

"Children?!" Draco gurgled, face contorting in horror. "What children?"

 

"Ours, silly!" Parkinson grinned, finally sitting up so she could look at the Malfoy heir properly. "My father is going to approach yours about a marriage contract! Isn't that great?"

 

Draco stared in horror, his brain barely comprehending the gleeful gushing coming from the girl's thin and fishlike lips.

 

"But, we're cousins? Way too closely related to get married!" He finally protested, cutting off the stream of what sounded like potential baby names.

 

Parkinson waved a hand dismissively, unconcerned.

 

"So? My family frequently marry closely. It makes it easier to make sure that the bloodlines are pure enough. Father says that the Malfoys used to have a similar practice, and it's only recently you started accepting other bloodlines into your family; but Father said that it's recent enough that we can overlook it. You're still pure enough, since all the outsiders you married into your family were purebloods too."

 

"There's no way my father will agree to a marriage contract between us!" Draco exclaimed, overwhelmed. "We stopped intermarrying because inbreeding caused all sorts of problems with the children! Why on earth would I agree to bring that tradition back when we've only just corrected the problems?"

 

"Well, my parents are half siblings, and there's nothing wrong with _me_!" Parkinson huffed, folding her arms across her chest and glaring angrily.

 

Draco took a deep breath and gently unfolded her arms, taking her hands in his and laying them on her lap. Looking her in the eye, he sighed lightly, brow furrowed.

 

"Pansy, you're my cousin. I've known you my entire life, and I do care about you. But I can't marry you."

 

"But _why?"_ Parkinson whined, tearing up and clutching at Draco's hands desperately. "Like you said, we've known each other forever, we'd be a perfect couple!"

 

"Because if you were any more inbred, you'd be a sandwich," Draco stated bluntly.

 

There was a collective gasp from around the room, followed by cackles of laughter as the onlookers promptly abandoned any attempt to pretend they weren't watching the drama unfold. Two fifth years and a seventh year were howling with laugher, their faces buried in their arms on the table as they slapped the wood, crying and sobbing as they tried futilely to control their hysterical laughter.

 

Harry himself couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, and wished desperately for a bowl of popcorn.

 

 _"Oh, snap,"_ Warthog chortled.

 

Parkinson's jaw dropped unattractively, and she gaped, before yanking her hands free of Draco's grasp and lurching to her feet. She tried to speak, mouth opening and shutting a few times, before she reeled back and slapped the blond across the face with all the strength she could muster.

 

Draco's head snapped to the side from the force, and a brilliant red handprint bloomed almost immediately, the edges beginning to purple mere moments after.

 

The girl, so overwhelmed with rage, didn't even bother trying to speak again, merely storming off red faced to the girls dormitory, arms rigid and fists clenched tightly at her sides.

 

Blaise turned a page of his book, his attention never having visibly wavered from his reading, and crossed his legs with all the elegance that an eleven year old shouldn't have mastered yet.

 

"Amateur," he muttered.

 


End file.
